Searching for Light in the Dark
by LittleHandGernade
Summary: Damon's alive and he's out to make Elena his again. Elena thinks of him as a monster and just wants to enjoy her sophomore year. Holly, Elena's new little sister in the pre-med program, won't be making things easier. She watched him slaughter her parents. She's sure he's worse than a monster. Holly wants him away from Elena. Who is Damon really trying to convince he's changed?
1. December 24, 2005

December 24, 2005

This would be wonderfully perfect if it worked; he had never actually tried to enter a hotel that was being used as a temporary residence. The current owners had sold off their house in Texas; unfortunately for them, their estate in Mystic Falls was still under renovation and this opportunity had been too good to pass up. Hence, it was quite possibly, his lucky day that they were pent up in the penthouse suite of a swanky hotel in Richmond. Tonight would be a particularly pleasant kill for him; ending the Maxwell family, one of the Founding Families of Mystic Falls. Mystic Falls belonged to the vampires, not the walking blood bags.

He swiped the electronic card in the electric lock, a menacing smirk twisting his lips as the indicator turned green. The card compelled from the lobby receptionist worked. Mind control had to be one of his favorite tricks. Personally, he would have preferred kicking the door in and sending it off the handles but that probably would have caused unwanted attention. The whole point of killing them in the penthouse was so he could take his time, enjoy it, leave a nice, big mess and he'd never be suspected. Last rumor he heard, the Council ignorantly believed a vampire couldn't even get into a shady motel room unless checked-in by the actual landlord. In their minds, an occupied room would be practically impossible since the landlord would never rent out a booked room and the occupants had no particular hold on the place due to not owning any part of the room. Of course, this case would be unsolvable and there would always be that nagging suspicion in the back of their minds. Arrogant, paranoid people were so easy to screw with.

He turned the polished silver handle and pushed the door open. Oh, yes. The moment his hand crossed the doorframe he knew there was no barrier. The death of a Founding Family would immediately draw the Council's eye but there was no way they were going to admit, even to each other, the possibility of a vampire being involved. If one belief they held true about the vampires broke, what kept the rest from breaking and the population being sucked dry? Natural suspicion would fall on the receptionist who made the access card and would discover the bodies tomorrow at 6:54PM, when delivering a package. He had compelled the receptionist in the alley behind The Domain and received the keycard there. In scoping the hotel out two weeks before, he discovered there were no cameras at the kitchen service entrance that he used to enter The Domain nor within the stairwell he climbed to reach the Maxwells on the 14th floor.

Shivers of delight ran up his spine as he entered the living room suite; the blood would look beautiful against all the white furniture and carpeting. Spying a vase of of white wooden roses he plucked one and tossed it on the couch. Roses weren't suppose to be white. He'd just have to fix that. He'd paint the rose red just like they did in _Alice in Wonderland._ He always enjoyed that book.

He eyed the fake Christmas tree with a three foot perimeter of gifts with disgust. Such a pointless holiday. Why waste time being nice to people you don't give a damn for and exert the energy and blow the money on picking out a gift? It was the time of the year people were extra fake and extra bitter. All the sugar from the Christmas cookies and junk actually made their blood more bitter.

The room on the right was slightly ajar. He knew there was a kid. He also knew that master suites were usually located in the back. Kill the kid now or risk waking up the parents in the struggle to tie the kid up and keep the kid alive to kill her in front of Mommy and Daddy? His hands wrapped reflexively around the duct tape and nylon rope in the deep pockets of his leather jacket. He hated having to resort to such crude tools but the Maxwell's were a Founding Family. That meant they knew about vampires and, worse, vervain. He had no idea where they would get any of the herb, especially down in Texas; it was much too hot from his experience, to actually grow it.

He was fast; he could wrap the kid up before it made too much noise, possibly even any. Carefully, the door was nudged open by his steel-toed boot. The bed clothes were rumpled with a stuffed dog laying on one of the pillows. What was problematic was that the bed was empty. Silently, creeping over to the bed he ran his hands over the sheets. Cool to the touch. No one had been in them. At least not for a good while. An hour at least. Perhaps the child was in the parent's room. Just for good measure he slid the closet door open and looked around inside. Perhaps it hid at the sound of someone entering the suite. Nothing but small dark colored t-shirts and a couple of sweatshirts. No kid in the room.

Headed towards the back of apartment the wheels in his head started churning out more ideas of torture. If the kid was with the parents it would just make corralling them that much easier. He could have them take turns watching each other be tortured. It wasn't like he was some sick psychopath who got his rocks off torturing people but he was _bored_. Plus, he wanted to wipe out a Founding Family. It sounded like fun; leaving Mystic Falls with a cold case on how one of their great legacy families was wiped out, letting them spin wild theories. Not to mention he was interested in seeing how much he could get away with regarding the law without the use of compulsion. It was easy to cover your tracks as a vampire. Mortals had a much harder time. He wouldn't compel the receptionist to forget him or bother worrying about forensics like bloody bootprints. He was using worker's gloves, though; on a bad acid trip he somehow let his fingerprints get in the system for robbing a liquor store. It was a stupid situation; he hadn't even robbed the store. He borrowed a little blood from the cashier but he left enough cash to cover the bourbon. The fingerprints were never marked as his but it was best that the case in Nevada not be linked to the murder in Richmond.

Holly sat in the coat closet, squinting through the slanted wooden slats as the man in all dark clothes with tousled hair even darker headed towards her parents' bedroom. She had turned off the flashlight when she heard the soft beep of the lock, indicating it was unlocked. For a fleeting second she thought she was about to be proven wrong and actually see Santa walk through the hotel door. That was ridiculous and impossible, she had instantly reminded herself. The whole reason she had been reading Harry Potter in the closet for two hours was so she could call out her parents when they ate the cookies and milk for Santa, plus the carrot stick for Rudolph.

Holly hated moving out from the house she grew up in. She purely loathed having to spend Christmas in a hotel. It was obvious to her parents so they tried to make it just like Christmas back at her old house. This year it just flat out pissed her off that her parents demand she leave out the snacks and write a short note to Santa asking for what she wanted most. She was 11, not 8; she didn't buy this anymore. Holly's note was bitter, saying all she wanted was to wake up to Christmas back home in her house in Texas.

The death grip around the flashlight slacked as Holly heard a very short but very piercing scream from the back of the suite. It was the loud crashing that caused her to drop the torch with a muted thump against the thick carpet and toss her favorite book against the wall of the closet. Holly pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She knew she should go check on her parents; that was the right thing to do. Instead, all she could do was curl up in fear.

With her mom slung over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the raven haired man returned to the living, dragging her father's unconscious body behind him. Holly bit her lip to keep from calling out to them. Were they ok? They certainly didn't look ok. They looked… She didn't even want to think about how they looked. He dropped her mother onto the couch and used some thin white cord to tie her wrist together. The charm bracelet she had given to her mother this past Mother's Day glinted in the moonlight, shining through the floor to ceiling windows. Her feet were tied together at the ankles next.

A wave of relief shot through her as her father groaned. Instantly, the man appeared next to her father and his mouth was covered with silver tape, his wrist and ankles tied with the same kind of rope that had been used on his wife. The intruder propped Holly's father up on the couch next to her mother. The dark man stood in front of them, his back towards the hall closet.

He crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Wakey, wakey, Marcus. I heard you groaning," he drawled. All this knocking people unconscious and standing around was boring. He wanted to have fun.

The eyelids of the bound man, Marcus, fluttered. His green eyes were hazed with confusion. Realization coming to him he started to jerk at the bindings on his wrist.

"Now, Marcus, let's not be stupid. You know and I know that _that,_" he nodded his head at Marcus still fighting against the rope, "is completely pointless."

Marcus stopped struggling and glared at the man, his eyes full of questions.

"It seems I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself before throwing you into the armoire. You were too busy fighting me instead of cooperating." The man rolled his icy blue eyes and lazy shrugged one shoulder, "Really, it's your own fault that you're taped and bound. Your fault I had to knock you unconscious too, come to think of it. I'm _the_ Damon Salvatore and I'm here to kill you." Damon smirked, forcing one of Marcus's balled, bound fists into a handshake.

Marcus's eyes went wide, first at the name Salvatore and then bug-eyed wide when Damon mentioned his intentions.

Damon smirked, clasping his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Yes, Damon Salvatore. Glad to see my, oh... namesake's legacy, is still the talk of the Council. You know, traitor and all that jazz. Really, though, he and I are what you could call kindred spirits. One-in-the-same. I was never a member of some secret cult against vampires so I don't exactly get how I'm a traitor. A familial disappointment, I understand, though. We share that, Marcus, don't we? We're disappointments for not being the prodigal son and joining the Council, for wanting _different _things?

"Just over ten years ago there was that bloody massacre at the Salvatore Stay Boarding house. I still cannot believe the Council convinced the entire city of Mystic Falls that it was carbon dioxide poisoning. Of course, you know what it really was. A vampire. You had to come up for your big brother's funeral. You have my very late and overdue condolences. I know how hard it is to lose family."

A mocking glee glistened in Damon's eyes.

"Naturally," Damon began pacing across the living room, speaking as if he were a professor giving a fascinating history lecture, "the Council begged you to move back to Mystic Falls and take your brother's place. Every Founding Family must have a representative on the Council." Facing Marcus he scrunched up his face and remarked with disgust, "Politics. Public Relations. Such a ridiculous idea on a secret council, I know. One of the many, many reasons I do not join the council."

He stopped walking and looked Marcus in the eye, "But you said 'fuck them' because we're free thinkers, you and I. You had a wife and a baby down in Texas. You didn't give a fuck about the secret Council and Founding Families back in Mystic Falls. You didn't even care that the vampire who had slaughtered your brother, killed your childhood friends, was roaming free. You didn't care as long as your new family was safe. They were safe down in Texas; why would you move them to a town that just had a vampire induced massacre? You were smart to stay away."

"You see," Damon stalled, his voice raising as if he were about to break bad news, "here's where you made a mistake that I don't understand: you decided to move back and you didn't care about that vampire that killed your brother. Personally, I liked the dwindling size of the Founding Families. With you down in Texas, I, and basically everyone in Mystic Falls, considered the Maxwells obsolete. I can see you're confused. Are you really that dim-witted? Haven't you figured it out by now? I mean, what normal person could fling a man across a room?"

Dark, black veins radiated out under Damon's now red eyes. He pulled his lips back in a snarl, fangs showing. Marcus gulped hard, his body tensing as he pushed himself further into the white leather couch. Human instinct told him to get as far away as possible, even if he knew it was pointless. He was going to die. His wife was going to die. He bet that the monster had already killed his daughter. He could see the door to her room wide open.

"I'm glad to see you understand," snorted Damon. "Yes, I am _the_ Damon Salvatore from 1864. It's your honor to make my acquaintance. You see why I want to kill you. I'm interested in the ending of the Maxwell line. One less Founding Family informed and stoking the fires of the super secret Council. Had you stayed down in Texas all of this," Damon waved his hands around, suggesting Marcus take in his surroundings, "could have been avoided. Like I said, the Maxwells were written off with your big bro dead and you gone for nearly 20 years. The town belongs to the vampires, who, incidentally, were not burned in 1864. Not the Founding Families.

"Why do I care about all this? Why am I telling you all of this? Truth is that I plan on starting a turf war: vampire versus the good citizens of Mystic Falls. I don't care about who wins, really. I'm just bored and it should make for some fun games. If I don't care _why, oh, why_ do I have to kill your family?" Damon mocked, his voice taking on a pleading quality.

He casually shrugged, "I don't have to kill you. I could let you go and give the upstanding Council a headstart since I don't care about who wins. The problem is I'm bored right now and it's going to take a little while for me to… procure my 1864 comrades. That's bad news for you because I'm a man who likes instant gratification. I want the fun and games now. Plus, the unsolvable slaughter of the Maxwell family will leave all the Founding Families with an upset stomach. That's just an entertaining idea .

"So, we've covered the "why I don't care" and the "why I'm going to kill you" so that just leaves the "why don't I just kill you already?" I happen to know that I have a mesmerizing voice. I love hearing myself talk. You know a part of you is fascinated by it as well," Damon smirked, dropping his voice seductively. "Besides, the longer I wait, the more fear you feel, all the better your blood will be. Being moments away from death the epinephrine and oxytocin pumping through your veins makes it almost like crystal meth. They say don't play with your food but it just is _so_ much better when you do."

Damon had almost forgotten about the woman on the couch until she started issuing soft moans of pain. He flashed over to her, clamping his hand over her mouth. The last thing he needed was her screaming and setting off the intruder alarm. It took about a minute for her to come to. Damon's lips puckered and eyes rolled as she expectedly tried to scream against his hand. Her head thrashed side to side as she attempted to dislodge the hand muffling her cries for help. Another hand on the back of her bleach blonde head prevented her from doing so. He let her struggle for a minute or two before he was bored of watching. Damon locked his arms, preventing the woman's head from moving; her strength was no match to his. She then tried biting his hand, only to catch the rough material of the glove. Note for future encounters, if hand gets bitten blood enters system. Then he'd have to compel his dinner away unless he wanted to play with a new vampire. Great thing he wore gloves, he couldn't just compel this victim. He wanted to slaughter the family tonight.

He looked into her honey colored eyes and spoke, "You are not going to make a sound."

He removed his hands from her head and went to squatting in front of her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms crossed. She was silent but that didn't satisfy him. She could just be responding to fear.

"Well, you can respond to the questions I ask you," he decided, "but other than that your vocal cords don't work. So, my dear Linda, one of this perfect little family is missing. Where is your daughter?"

"Her bed," responded the woman, her voice strained and weak. Damon could literally smell the fear she was secreting into her bloodstream.

"Nope," the vampire chided, popping the "puh" sound while bouncing to a standing position. "I checked there. I'm smart like that. Sheets are cold. She hasn't been in that bed for hours." Grasping the Linda's chin between his index finger and thumb he forced her to look him in the eye, "Now, where is she?"

"I don't know," a new type of fear laced her voice. Damon could sense the change in her tone. It was true that she didn't know where her daughter was but that didn't necessarily mean she was just trying to convince him she was compelled.

"I wonder, Marcus," pondered Damon, turning towards the husband, "how much your wife knows about the true Mystic Falls. If she knows about what really goes bump in the night. I'm guessing not. You met her down in Austin. The big bad vampires were up in Virginia. My bets are that you thought it was safe down in Texas so you never bothered with vervain. Of course, I would be stupid to automatically assume I'm right. Even though I'm always right."

Damon jerked Linda's bound wrists towards him with his left hand while his right fished out a switchblade from his jacket. The woman's shoulders twisted into an awkward, painful position as the vampire angled the inside of one of her arms towards him. She didn't cry out. Nor did she cry out as Damon placed the blade above her delicate, spray-tanned skin. Linda didn't cry out when the sharp edge was pushed deep into her skin and dragged down the length of her arm.

Damon watched the blood flow over the blade as he cut the woman's arm. The warm, wet liquid succumbbed to the forces of gravity and formed rivulets of blood with a waterfall ending on the white leather couch. The pools of blood forming on the couch were tantalizing to the vampire. Reaching the end of her arm, he turned his focus to the blood coating the blade. He could smell the epinephrine and oxytocin calling to him. His natural, predatory instincts kicked in causing his fangs to extend and face to distort. He dropped Linda's wrists and pinched his thumb and index finger on either side of the blade. He drew his finger up to the point, gathering all the blood off the blade and on to his fingers.

Good. No vervain. He would have felt a burning sensation had there been. It would have made what he planned to be an extremely bloody and messy night a lot less fun.

"Wonderful. You haven't been lacing her morning cup of joe with vervain," Damon confirmed to himself. He knew he was right. He wanted to sample the blood but he knew it could turn into more than a sample. Ultimately, he was going to kill them but he didn't want the night to end quickly. They would bleed to death, slow and painful. Slurpee-ing them to a quick death would be delicious but boring. He might allow himself a taste at the end of the night but for now he just transferred the blood from his fingers to his black jeans.

As he was watching the crimson liquid flow, he spotted a silver bracelet with dangling charms on Linda's wrist. One trinket was a treasure chest. Damon could tell with his enhanced eyesight that the tiny clasp on the chest looked like it could be opened. He didn't think Marcus Maxwell was that cautious but it wouldn't be the first time someone hid vervain in jewelry. Yanking her wrist again, with a sharp tug the blood covered bracelet snapped. Not interested, Damon flung the silver over his shoulder, the piece making a loud clank and rippling sound as it hit the coat closet door, tumbling down the wooden slats. It was the first specks of blood out of litres that would paint the white walls that night.

Holly had sat with her forehead on her knees, her eyes squeezed tight. She tried to block out what was going on in the livingroom. There had to be clues in each and every Harry Potter book as to whether Severus Snape was good or bad. That's why she had been rereading _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ again while waiting to catch her parents being Santa. Holly just had to comb through all the events and every detail in each book in order for clues and she wouldn't hear what the dark man was saying. He was talking about vampires and Mystic Falls. He was crazy. Vampires only existed in Harry Potter and there was only one ever mentioned. That was the limit on the existence of vampires. She didn't want to hear a thing about Mystic Falls. That town wasn't Austin. It wasn't home. It was ruining her life. Because of Mystic Falls she lost her home, her friends, and now her parents were going to be killed. Her only option, besides watching her parents die and listening to the rants of a raving lunatic was to figure out if Severus Snape was a good guy or a bad guy. Maybe he was being brave when he killed Dumbledore, not a coward, like Harry said. No, Holly was the coward. She was the one who couldn't move from the closet floor to save her parents.

The slap of something hitting the closet door made her jump, knocking her knees into her eyes with a searing pain. After lights of pain stopped blurring her vision she could see what had hit the door. At the gap at the foot of the closest door lay the charm braclet she had gotten for her mother. She glanced between the slats to see if the dark man, Damon, was watching her. His back was still towards her. It required more force and courage than anything she had ever faced to uncurl her fingers from digging into her calf and to sneak out two fingers to pull the bracelet towards her.

"Let's have some fun," Damon grinned wickedly. Holly clutched the object in her hand, the warmth of her mother's blood contrasting with the cold silver. The livingroom was like a horrible car wreck she just couldn't look away from.

* * *

><p>AN: Hi! This is my first TVD fanfic. Kind of nervous playing around in the Vampires Diaries universe. Reviews, even flamers, are always welcomed.

Also, I own nothing.


	2. June 4, 2007

June 4th, 2007

"This case comes down to whether or not you believe the words of an 11-year-old," the blonde reporter said forcefully, her face jutting towards the camera for emphasis like a chicken pecking its neck. She always sounded so outraged to him.

A man that looked like he belonged in the grave rather than the courtroom argued on the prosecution's behalf, "Not entirely. Those jurors cannot let the words of a _traumatized child _looking through a closet door sway their opinion. The kid said the man claimed to be a vampire. Clearly, the child doesn't know what she saw or heard. It's not uncommon for a child to recreate a reality that they can cope with."

"Holly's story still remains the same a year and a half later," spoke another man, being teleconferenced in from outside the courthouse. "That hotel suite was a Jackson Pollock painting with blood. There wasn't a single surface that didn't look like it had been splatter painted. Whoever did that was obviously crazy. It's not a far leap for them to go from painting a room in blood to claiming to be a vampire. There is the bite mark on the back of Mrs. Maxwell's neck supporting Holly's story. The man thought he was a vampire. The man bit Linda Maxwell. Holly can describe and account for almost every injury to her mother and father. If she can remember that trauma, it is highly unlikely that her memory of the man who did those things is defective."

The blonde woman, the ring leader, persistently shooked her head throughout the second man's speech, "No. No. No. Holly Maxwell is a strong child but she is mistaken. The prosecution would have never made it this far if they did not have a solid case against Isiah James. He is the one who made a spare -"

"Blah, buh-blah, buh-blah," Damon muttered, stretching out across the hotel bed. He really didn't understand why the case had become a national sensation. If he had know making such a mess would have drawn such attention he would have just snapped their necks. Actually, he wouldn't have done anything different. Nobody suspected him and that's all that mattered.

Well, that wasn't exactly true either. It took a whole 28 hours for a very, very vague description of him to end up in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. He only knew because he received a very irritating and accusatory voicemail from Stefan. He never answered his brother's calls; all Stefan did was bitch at him and tell him to turn his humanity back on. Frankly, he didn't see the benefits of humanity. His humanity left him pining for Katherine and hating his brother for over 90 years. Now he was disinterested in both of them. Humanity brought suffering and guilt and anger. The worse thing he could feel now was annoyed or bored. Humanity was crap. What he had was good. Besides, he doubted there was any humanity left in him. He didn't like it and had that part of him turned off for almost half a century. It looked liked his humanity had booked a one way flight and he was more than ok with that.

It was from the paper that he found out that the little Maxwell had been hiding in the coat closet. He considered being pissed off that she had been there and he hadn't killed her but that would be stupid. He hadn't screwed up. The sheets in the kids bed were cold. She wasn't in _her _closet. Lord knew she wasn't anywhere else in the apartment; he would have notice when he played tag with the parents. _No one _would have thought to look in a damn coat closet for a little girl, if she must have been in there for hours.

His intentions had been to slaughter and end the Maxwell line that night but he knew by leaving that hotel room, he was admitting that some kid had given him the slip. There was still a little brat roaming around out there. Damon figured the girl would be with the local authorities or at least under their close watch and basically untouchable for the first few days so he didn't bother. A quick internet search told him Linda Maxwell's maiden name along with the names and address of her parents out in Los Angeles, California. Simple logic dictated Holly would fall into their custody as Linda was an only child and her parents were still pretty young. He was right. They came into town and stayed with Holly for two weeks while she was squeezed for as much information as possible. After those two weeks they headed back to Cali.

Damon decided not to bother with her. If she ever showed up again he would just take care of her then. For now she was nothing and the Maxwells were no longer a Founding Family, in his mind and in name. Concerned that the killer may go searching for the girl, her last name was changed to Jones, along with that of her grandparents. Really, he found that to be a very stupid method of protection, especially if you were just going to live in your same residence. He hadn't really kept tabs on _Holly Jones_ once she moved to California. Damon only noticed the appearance of _Holly Maxwell_ when she became the center of attention of what was now a nation riveting court case.

Two months after he carved the Maxwells like a Thanksgiving turkey, the receptionist he had compelled for a room key was arrested for the murders. Damon wasn't sure if he found it more amusing or pathetic that the cops had forced together a case against an innocent man because they were that afraid of having an insane, unknown killer on the loose. The brown eyed blonde at 6'3" was a far cry from the description Holly had given of him. He always wondered why they hadn't released a composite sketch to go with the description. He was sure they forced one out of Holly. She must have been very certain about it or very uncertain. From how things were playing out, she was very specific and certain of the composite and it didn't match with the leads the police had. Releasing the composite would have been handing the defense a weapon. Holly was already the single best weapon they could have been give besides a video recording of the murder. She was being put on the stand on the persecution' whim. The defense would definitely cross examine and Holly, if she didn't cave to the pressure of the eyes of everyone in the courtroom and the film crew and anyone who would be watching and the weight that her words could decide if this man was set free or sentenced to death, would indisputably state that Isaiah James did not kill her parents.

Damon hadn't really followed the month long televised trial, only skimming an online article every now and then. If he was really bored, he would watch the angry blonde reporter, Nancy Grace, who was convinced Holly was confused about the identity and that this James man needed to be put to death instantly. The only reason he followed at all was because he read that the kid was going to be called as a witness. He was interested in seeing the little bug he didn't squish. Damon just wanted a glimpse at her. Just a peek to see if she seemed like the type that was going to come poking around Mystic Falls, wondering about her past, reviving the Maxwells' position as a Founding Family.

He didn't want the Maxwells popping back up. Elias Maxwell had created some weapons that would take out quite a few vampires pretty quick. His father had mentioned them to Jonathan Gilbert; both were unhappy that Elias didn't want the weapons written in the Council records for future generations and that he wouldn't confide in them where they were. Damon was pretty sure Elias would have left some sort of record or clue for his descendants. Founding Families were simple and that's how they worked; they kept their secrets well and they left traces. He had know Elias Maxwell. That man was one of those people who was insanely brilliant, so brilliant that they couldn't talk to a normal person. Undoubtedly, those weapons could only be found by a smart Maxwell. Elias wouldn't want to or be able to hide anything simply. Elias didn't understand simple. He reckoned that there was some blood magic hiding them; Emily was smart enough to hold a conversation with Elias. Wiping out a fair bit of his vampire soldiers in one shot would make the show much less entertaining. If _Holly Jones_ flew into town, Maxwell blood was back. That meant open season for the weapons. If she was smart then it was basically handing the weapons to the Council.

Damon doubted the now 13-year-old girl could make something of the traces Elias Maxwell left but in a few years, could be a problem Turned out his plan to start a townwide civil war of vampires versus humans was going to take a little longer than he thought. Apparently some stupid crystal he needed was inside some house. Obviously he needed to be invited into said house. The only downside of being a vampire. If situations were different he'd just take a nice stroll through the town square and charm his way into the house. Unfortunately, he killed the pregnant girlfriend of his very distant nephew 13 years ago, plus maybe a dozen other people. His nephie-poo was probably still upset about that and would go running to the Council screaming "Vampire!" He had to agree that May 10, 1994 wasn't a day to brag about his intelligence. In his defence, not that he needed one, he had planned to be watching his brother in Ripper Mode that day; that would have provided at least a decade of entertainment. Or however long it took that Lexi bitch to show up. Running from someone while keeping tabs on a blood addict who couldn't control himself, which would require some serious work in covering their tracks. Sounded fun. His little brother had to go and blow his plan and so he was still left bored. He planned on entertainment and he would find it. His need for instant gratification sometimes caused a few bumps in the road.

For now the girls and booze and his new, consumable friend name Ecstasy allowed for a hell of a lot of entertainment. Damon would just find out ways to amuse himself until Saint Stefan came home and could smooth things over with his nephew, Zach. He could get Stefan to fall for the idea that he had returned in search of his humanity. He would simply guilt him with the events of their last reunion. It was his fault all those people had died. Stefan was the one who had refused to go on a roadtrip with Damon so he could find his humanity, at least that was the purpose he had given his baby bro. He was content enough for now. He'd have his civil war in due time.

Damon had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts and missed when the scene switched from the bickering reporters to inside the courtroom. A pale girl with red auburn hair was seated in the witness stand, already in the middle of being questioned. She held herself with confidence; as if she wasn't on national television being asked to relive her parents murder. Damon was slightly intrigued; he expected her to show at least a little bit of unease.

An well-tailored man with overly gelled hair stood behind a pulpit, asking her questions. "Do you remember what the man was wearing, Holly?"

"Black everything. Black t-shirt. Black leather jacket. Black jeans. Black shoes," she stated each article as a sentence, like she was trying to make something very complicated understandable to a five year old.

"Do you recall what kind of shoes he wore?" pressed the prosecutor.

The eye roll was actually visible on camera. They were the same bright green as her father's. "No. I don't know what kind they were. I can't help you match the bloody shoe prints to a particular shoe that belonged to Isaiah James or that he had access to."

Judging by the look on the prosecutor's face, Damon wasn't the only one taken aback by this blunt statement, calling out the prosecution's line of questioning. This 13-year-old, Damon didn't know what she was playing at yet, but _she _knew her game.

"Ms. Maxwell," the attorney's voice was strained with annoyance. Damon's lips twitched. "Will you tell the court what happened? Leading up to the first attack."

"The electronic lock beeped, indicating that the lock disengaged. I heard the door creak open. I never actually heard it close. Because of my location I wouldn't bet my life on it but I believe the intruder went into what was my bedroom. The closet gave off a really weird squeak whenever you opened it and I heard that sound. Then I saw the guy look around the living room. He took a wooden rose out of a vase and put it on the couch. Then he headed towards my parents' bedroom. My mom gave a short scream and then there was a crash, like something hitting the wall."

Her recount was so clinical and detached. In Damon's opinion she really did look and sound bored. That bothered him. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to be in shambles and crushed at her parents death or what. He wanted her to feel something about the situation she was in because of him. If all of this was so easy for her, there would be no fun in the fact that she was still living. If she wasn't suffering, why shouldn't he just end the Maxwell bloodline to prevent any possible interruptions? It'd be a weekend trip. He'd done more for less.

"Did it look like he was looking for anything in particular in the livingroom?"

"No."

"Can you tell us what happened next?"

"He came back into the livingroom with my mom over his shoulder and dragging my dad behind him by his wrist. He sat my mom on the couch. He used some type of rope or cord that was white to tie her wrist and ankles together. The rope came from his jacket pocket. He did the same to my dad except he also put tape over his mouth. The tape also came from his jacket pocket. Then he talked. A lot," she emphasised, as if just thinking about how much he spoke was annoying. If she mattered, Damon might have been flattered to get under her skin for simply talking.

"What did he talk about? Did he say anything that might have revealed who he was? Any names or places?"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her hair, licking her lips before speaking. Spotting a flash of something on her wrist, Damon reached out with vampire speed for the remote. The screen froze with Holly's hand returning to her lap. Damon rolled off the hotel bed, walking up to the flat screen TV. He'd snapped that charm bracelet right off of Linda Maxwell's wrist. It had been covered in blood. It should have been catalogued as evidence but obviously it was not. It was sitting loosely on the daughter's wrist. The report and her story was that she had stayed in the closet until the police, alerted by housekeeping, found her Christmas day. The rugrat had left out that she snuck out to grab a little keepsake. A piece of evidence. Lying to the police over something so trivial, that was very interesting, particularly in a little girl. Damon didn't like her. There were too many things that just weren't normal: the lack of nerve, lack of any emotion, really, lying to the police, and about to lie when legally sworn to tell the truth on national television, if that moving of the hair and licking of the lips was a tell. This girl wasn't performing like a normal 13-year-old. Abnormal led to complications in Damon's history.

"He never said his name but he knew my parents' name."

Damon crossed his arms, his toned biceps stretching the sleeve cuffs from the white undershirt. He knew he said his name. He wanted the Maxwells to know who killed him. It was one of the first things he said. Rumors were that the girl had been persistent in that Isaiah James was not the man who killed her parents. If she wanted to give the police a true suspect, why hadn't she given the police a name? He always figured she told them his name but they believed the killer was using the identity of someone long dead because he was crazy, thinking he was a vampire. Yet, she hadn't told them his name. Though she did give a physical description of him. Maybe she just didn't want to remember? Why not say his name if she didn't want this James man put away?

"He talked a lot about Mystic Falls, about people he called the Founding Families and a council. I think he said something about the town belonging to vampires. He said that he was a vampire. He talked like Mystic Falls had a lot of vampires in 1864 that the town thought they killed. They hadn't died though and he was going to 'procure his comrades'," Damon's nose blew out a puff of air in almost humor at the girl's use of air quotes in a courtroom on national TV.

"Then I think he meant for the vampires to kill the people of Mystic Falls. He wanted to watch the town and vampires fight because he was bored. He said it was going to take time for him to get the vampires but it he wanted to be entertained right then and that was why he wanted to kill my parents.

"He was worried about something called vervain. That's how my mom got the gash from her elbow down her arm; he was checking for vervain. But he didn't do anything but cut her. I don't exactly get how that was checking for vervain."

The girl went silent.. The prosecutor waited for thirty seconds for her to continue but she didn't.

"Did he say anything else?"

Holly gave a small shrugged, her brow furrowing and giving a small smile; an apologetic look. "Nothing important. He just talked a lot because he liked to hear himself talk. He actually said that. And that he talked because somehow my parents being scared made their blood taste better. He made jokes and witty remarks while killing them. Honestly, I don't remember everything little thing he said. I didn't exactly want to hear the events surrounding my mom and dad being killed, sir," her tone was sharp.

The attorney gave a small nod and made a weak attempt at sympathy, "I understand. Was he a vampire, Holly?"

Damon gave a chuckle at the incredulous look the child shot at the prosecutor.

"I think _he _believed he was a vampire. Personally, I haven't found much proof as to the existence of vampires. Have you, sir?"

A vein noticeably twitched at the temple of the prosecutor. He was getting annoyed with this kid. Damon didn't notice his crooked grin. Little Miss Holly definitely had nerve and she knew how to get under people's skins. Based on her all too innocent smile, she knew it too. He _would_ have a problem if this girl started poking around Mystic Falls.

He watched Holly be questioned by the prosecutor and then the defense attorney for the next two hours. They had obviously cut out certain parts of the questioning. He bet she had been going rounds with that prosecutor for at least 4 hours that morning. She seemed to get along much better with the defense. There was no snarkiness, no challenging the attorney. Damon felt weird watching her actually seem to care when she answered the defense's questions in such a mild and innocent manner. Which was a facade? The detached show to the prosecution or the wounded child with the defense?

The defense attorney, looking much more approachable, like Santa in a suit without the beard, walked to the witness stand. He gave Holly a small, grim but encouraging smile. He didn't want to ask her this but his client's best defense, if the jury decided he was present, was not guilty by mental disease or defect.

"Holly, what was the last thing the intruder did before leaving the hotel room?" he asked in a soft, empathizing voice.

This was the first time the girl looked truly uncomfortable. She wiggled nervously in her seat, her eyes flashing around the courtroom as if she just notice all the people watch and now understanding there were was a nation watching her. She took a deep breath and sat up street, resolved to keep her head held high.

"During the chase my father's stomach got a long, deep cut. He eventually died in front of the coat closet. The man had walked off in the direction of the door and I had hear it open and shut. I thought he was gone but suddenly I saw him walking past the coat closet. He went to the couch and grabbed the wooden rose he had taken out before tying up my parents. The whole thing was painted white. He squatted next to my father and pulled back on the skin on one side of the really bad cut. He peeled it back until it was a gaping wound. Then he stuck in the petals part of the flower and twisted it around in the room while kind of singing:

_Roses are red_

_Your eyes are black and blue_

_Now you've bleed all over the room."_

Her voice choked up as she repeated the rhyme. A few tears had leaked out when she spoke of him basically ripping open her father's guts. That was curious. She hadn't been emotional when she had described everything else he did. He supposed it was one thing to see your parents be killed and another to watch their killer mutilate and play with their corpse right at your feet.

Something was _wrong._ There was a sensation in his stomach. It wasn't hunger; that felt like a tugging. This, whatever this was, felt kind of like the prickling of sunlight. It didn't burn him because of his ring, but whenever he was in it for a very long time he'd start to get a pins and needle tingling. This feeling, it was foreign but familiar. Why was he thinking about Stefan? Why was he remembering that day he watched Stefan go off to war at the train station? Without his protection.

He started to panic. He pulled at his hair. The shirt! The collar was choking him! A quick pull over his head and it was a heap on the floor. He was hot. He was very, very hot! Damon flashed into the bathroom. The cold water water on his face was doing nothing. He looked at his reflection. He looked fine, apart from the fact that he was breathing like he just ran a marathon.

_Fuck._ This wasn't suppose to be possible. Yet, there it was looking him right in the eye. Literally, his eyes had a haunted look that he wished to never see again. He truly had thought his humanity was dead and gone.

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><p>AN: Hello, again! Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing and following. It means a lot to me. I'm writing in a style that I've never written before and I worry if it's any good. I'm much more on action and dialogue than internal thoughts but that's just how this is playing out.

Next chapter we will catch up with Holly as she adjust to life in Mystic Falls.


	3. May 10, 1994 (Again)

**Author's Note: A certain religion is depicted within this chapter. Please note that I don't intend to disrespect this religion but intend to keep some authenticity in the story. The parts that sound like facts and religious are true. The supernatural stuff and the sacrifice, not true. It is a very, very, very small, dead religion but if you do practice it and/or are offended, I apologize.**

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><p>May 10, 1994 (Again)<p>

He sat up on his knees, pulled the maroon, down feathered blanket over his head, just enough so it covered his eyes, spread his arms wide, grasping the edge of the blanket. He couldn't help but imagine himself as the stereotypical vampire with a cape and allergic to sunlight. Except he was special. His cape had a hood and he was pretty much safe from the sun. Pulling and holding the right side of his cape over the left side of his body and the left over the right, he refused to think of it as hugging himself, he flopped down on his stomach. Elena use to call it a burrito wrap whenever he did this because according to her, that's what he looked like. Damon didn't see the comparison; perhaps if she compared his to something steaming hot and delicious looking he'd understand. Though now, he'd give anything just for her to tease him about being a burrito and try and unwrap him from the comfort of his blanket.

He'd been trapped in this hell for over four months and he still couldn't figure it out. He could figure out that today was not going to be a good day. Somehow, he'd been so distracted that he had burnt the pancakes this morning. All he could hear through breakfast was the pounding of Bonnie damn Bennet's heart, reminding him of the insatiable urge for blood. Since Damon had ended up in hell, he had been on a Stefan diet, the bunny diet. On May 10th, 1994, Stefan had been staying with Zach Salvatore, enjoying his rabbit food. In a way, Damon was grateful for this. It meant that when he had arrived in his own personal hell there had been a mini-fridge in Stefan's room stocked with animal blood. The liquid was revolting, reminding him of sewage, and there was a prickling sensation when he drank it. No matter how much he consumed, though, he could never feel. He knew only human blood would take away the constant hunger pains that burned in his chest. Damon was actually quite proud of himself for not having satisfyingly sunk his fangs in her carotid artery but that would only last a matter of time. He was going to spend eternity in hell and it was a battle of solitude versus the company of bloody Bonnie, O positively bloody from the scent.

The animal blood was also a curse though. Just like a human couldn't hold their breath until death, a vampire couldn't avoid blood to desiccation if it was available. Though, he wasn't sure he could dessicate in what he had decided was super death since he had technically be dead when he went to the other side. He knew if he went without the animal blood though, it started to hurt. He could take all kinds of beatings and torture and wood stabbed through him but the pain of going with the blood, he couldn't handle. It was like a constant supply of of something ten times stronger than vervain ran through his veins but a similar scrapping, burning sensation. Damon knew desiccation was an awful process but a sweet state of low consciousness would be a blessing. He wouldn't think about her so much. It wouldn't hurt so much that he finally had the girl and lost her. It would mean missing her just a little less.

He didn't believe in the Christian God or really any higher power but whatever was out there in the universe was trying to teach him some lesson. Damon just didn't get it though; it wasn't making an emotional impact. Logically, he knew he should feel like complete shit for killing his nephew's pregnant girlfriend but that wasn't what bothered him. It was just another kill out of oh so many. He felt bad about snapping Jackson Smallwood's neck, ending that Founding Family's line. He felt worse about draining Michael Maxwell, his first strike at attempting to end the Maxwell line.

Ending the Smallwoods had been a factor of Jackson being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he had realized he had ended one Founding Family, he concluded that he would end them all. Yet what fun would that be? He killed people all the time. It would be much more fun to watch them self destruct. How could he make them self destruct though? A few vampire kills wouldn't be enough to phase them. He would worry about later. At this moment he had a chance to essentially end the Maxwell line, too. The younger brother had adamantly avoided having anything to do with the Council. He'd move to Texas right out of high school, gone to school, got married, had a kid on the way and never returned to Mystic Falls, not even for his parents' funerals.

From killing Michael, it had been a small step to killing his brother, once he had figured out how he wanted to toy with the Council. He did feel guilty about taking hours to kill Marcus and Linda but not for the pain and suffering that he had put them through, like he should. He felt guilty because the kid had to stay in the closet for so long. If he was even slightly a better person, he would feel bad about making the kid watch. He wouldn't say he was glad she had seen it and he'd be lying if he admitted to wanting her to see it but he'd be wrong if he said it hadn't made her a wiser person.

Damon had followed up on Holly right before he returned to Mystic Falls to release Katherine. He had followed her for a few days. Her medical file was an interesting read. It was no surprise that she started seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist once he was done with her parents. The forceful admittance into a psychiatric hospital at age 13, shortly after the conclusion of the trial for a depressive bipolar episode with psychosis.

_Admitted by Los Angeles Police Department as a runaway. Holly is unresponsive unless asked her name. She refuses to provide a last name. Holly will answer about the very recent burns on her back. Holly has engaged in "scarifying", laser branding herself with __the disk of the sun in ancient Egyptian mythology on her left scapula. She believes that this mark will protect her from being bitten by a vampire or being fed vampire blood, to prevent her from turning into a vampire. Other than this information, nothing can be gained from Holly and she will answer no questions. She does not respond to external stimuli. _

There was a similar note at age 17, though this time she was admitted for a suicide attempt which went with a manic episode induced by stress. This time there were no remarks about vampires. Damon was kind of surprise that she hadn't gone insane. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed that she hadn't or impressed that she had kind of managed to keep it together. At least until she tried to off herself. He liked to credit that to the pressure of college applications and interviews with Ivy league schools while attending one of the top college-preparatory schools in the nation. All that pressure sounded like a more likely cause for a suicide attempt than knowing vampires existed.

The first hospital admission was very interesting to Damon. She knew he was a vampire. She _believed_ the couple of instances when he showed strength or speed beyond that of a normal human that night. He hadn't been expecting that. Of course, he recalled that she never expressedly said "no" when the prosecutor had asked her if she believed in vampires. He remember that she made some sort of smart remark that had almost made him smile, a practically possible feat at the time. The idea that she knew his name, at least generally what he looked like and that he was a vampire was very unsettling. That information, if fed to the right people at the right price, could put some people out for his head. Damon had every reason now to think that she might be able to somehow find those connections.

It was highly unusual for a 13-year-old to get permanent carvings into their own skin. It would actually have to had been illegally done. Body modification like that required someone to be 18 in California. She must have been desperate for it. The fact that at 13 she was already convincing people to conduct illegal activities for her made it very likely that she knew how to pick the right people to persuade. Not an easy skill for a human. Unless, she had a lot of money and found someone stupid enough to risk losing their license to mark her.

Damon had no idea how she had found out about the brand though and that was the highly dangerous part. He had spent the months over the summer before he re-met Elena looking for anything that would connect the Aten depiction with protection from vampires. He couldn't relate the mark to the supernatural at all. It took an extremely competent occult specialist he compelled to take a sabbatical to work solely on connecting the Egyptian symbol and vampires five months to find anything. It was through a little sect of one of the first monotheistic religions, Atenism, which centered on the worship of a sun god and a king. The prevalence of the religion in Egypt was so minute and for such a very short period of time that it was hardly ever considered part of Egyptian culture.

There was a little, rebellious subgroup who ignored the king and worshiped the sun directly and wholly. The proper channel of worship was to go through the king. In directly worshiping the sun god, the people asked for protection from the king. The king, as a preface of the religion, persuaded humans to be willingly sacrifice and he consumed their blood in a ritual to worship the sun god while he, in turn, would make people drink his blood to be purified for sacrifice. The sun god reportedly scarred the worshipers to keep them safe.

There was a legend about an army of the sacrificed rising and fighting the people of the city but with the rise of the sun the dead were turned to ashes. To Damon, this sounded a lot like a vampire trying to create a vampire army and that is what he thought for a while. Now, however, he couldn't account for how they predated the Original Vampires or Silas, though Egyptian culture was more ancient than the culture the Originals or Silas belonged to. It was possible they used some different kind of magic or there weren't records or that these creatures weren't true vampires. The king died young from what was probably epilepsy, his body not exactly dessicated like a vampires but mummified like other Egyptian pharaohs. The sacrificed humans were burned to ash so it is unknown if they were immortal.

The Aten Holly had been branded with worked, too. Damon compelled a man to have the Aten branded on his arm. When he tried to compel the man to cooperate with him once the mark had been applied, the man fought back. He had to restrain him. When he went to feed on the man, the blood caused his mouth to erupt in blisters and his throat swell shut. He tried to feed the man his blood to fix the puncture marks of his fangs but it did not heal the man. Holly had found something to truly protect someone from a vampire. Except from physical violence. He snapped the man's neck in the end.

How had this child found something so powerful? She obviously wasn't completely sane if she was telling people about vampires but he recalled the Maxwell family from before he was turned. They were a little peculiar but very smart; particularly Elias Maxwell. There had been close to 75 vampires in Mystic Falls in 1864. Elias Maxwell had created a device that killed off all those that weren't several centuries old. The younger vampires' hearts had been ripped right through their chest by some invisible force. Over 40 vampires were killed this way; it's what started the raid the night of the fire. A few vampires had time to escape but the rest were in a tomb under the church, presumed to be dead.

If she could figure out the Aten brand, Damon wa sure she could find Elias Maxwell's device. Thankfully, it didn't look like she was headed to Mystic Falls anytime soon with her college applications all to Ivy leagues. Besides, a look at her file with her therapist read that thinking about Mystic Falls gave her anxiety attacks. Her coming to town would be no problem as he tried to free Katherine and the other vampires.

The note that she still had nightmares featuring him, in dreams that didn't even involve him killing her parents, gave him the same pins and needles feeling in his stomach the night his humanity came back. He was way too familiar with that sensation now and Damon Salvatore loathed feeling guilty. He wanted to shred Holly Maxwell into pieces for making him feel again but he didn't know if it was worth the guilt he would feel for killing her. Most humans were weak and just things for him to play with. She had found a way around that. More than that, she had gone on to be really successful in school. She had gone a little crazy in the process but she turned out better than most of his victims. He couldn't help but be a little proud of her. When she started sending hunters after him, he would kill her.

Now, if the universe really wanted to teach him a lesson about remorse or guilt, it would be making him relive December 24, 2005 over and over and over. May 10th, 1994 was effective for he had killed Michael Maxwell and that led to thoughts about Holly Maxwell but it really wasn't poignant enough. He figured the universe wanted him to learn his lesson about killing pregnant women and the Salvatore bloodline. Though he still kind of thought Stefan mentioned a really distant nephew or cousin or something that counted. Fact was, he had killed a lot of people. He wasn't going to dwell over some pregnant girl just because some distant relative loved her and the baby was distantly related to him. Stefan was his family and the universe couldn't convince him that blood made you family.

He could he the contractions of her heart sending warm, savory blood through her body before he heard the knock at his door.

"Be gone!" he commanded in a Romanian accent, still feeling a bit like Dracula or some other stereotypical vampire.

The door opened anyways.

"Why, how nice of you to invite me into your castle of solitude Count Damon but I draw the line at becoming Mina," exaggerated Bonnie, use to Damon's mood swings by now. One day he was hell bent on finding a way to get them home, the next he wanted to wallow in self-pity and misery. She was getting sick of the latter.

Damon buried his face in his pillow as she came to the head of the bed to stand over him. He didn't want a pep talk or a distraction. He just wanted to be left alone. Sometimes he really hated having company in his personal hell.

"Elena is my Mina," he replied longingly, his voice muffled by the pillow he was talking into, "and she is gone."

"You're being extra broody today," huffed Bonnie, tapping her foot impatiently. She knew what would get a rise out of him. "You're being a Broody Stefan."

Damon flopped onto his back, jabbing an accusatory finger at the judgey little ex-witch. "I am not nor will I ever be as pathetic as a brooding Stefan. Broody Stefan wallows in guilt and self-pity and is just a miserable excuse for a vampire. I know exactly what and who I am and embrace. I take what I want and feel no remorse. And I definitely don't pity myself; I'm a fucking vampire."

"You don't pity yourself? What do you call hiding under the blankets all?"

"I'm not allowed to grieve my own suction into hell? The universe has lost the sexiest vampire to ever roam the Earth," Damon grinned, propping himself up against the headboard and a mass of pillows.

Bonnie shook her head in annoyance; after four months of living with Damon, she had no idea why Elena would want to be in a relationship with him. He always deflected everything personal with some arrogant remark. If it was at least a smart remark or something that a conversation could be built from, that would be slightly more bearable. With the way he was, all she wanted to do was knock the smug grin off his face. He couldn't act like a normal human. She wondered if there was something about being a vampire that made him extra prone to mood swings.

"Fact: you are not the sexiest vampire to ever roam the Earth. I don't know who is but for the sake of this argument let's say Klaus. He pulls off the bad boy thing much better by you know, not giving in to martyrdom or romantic notions, plus he's pretty much impossible to kill," Bonnie countered, sitting at the foot of Damon's bed, her back leaning against his bedpost. While she had been annoyed with it while alive, she would give anything for girl talk with Caroline and Elena. Debating Damon's sex appeal was about as close as she was going to get at this point.

Damon's steely blue eyes narrowed, "I resent that. He's bad without a purpose, which is _not_ sexy. It's just being a dick. When I'm a dick, it's always for a nobler, greater cause. I'm the bad guy for good reasons. Plus, he's a hybrid; hybrids don't count. I remain the sexiest vampire the world has ever known."

"If you're bad for good reasons then that makes you a good guy and you completely lack the appeal of a bad boy and are simply left with the fact that you, sir, can be quite the dick," she didn't see how he couldn't logic this. Damon was pretty rational in their debates unless it involved anything relating to his ego or the people they left behind. "And if we're not counting Klaus, then the win goes to his brother before it would ever reach you. He has the whole morality and justice thing going for him. Plus, he seems kind of all about his family. After being alive after 1000 years, to still love your family so much despite them being as crazy as Rebekah and Klaus, it's pretty impressive. He'd do anything for his family."

"Are you forgetting about the time he planned to kill his own brother with us, showing a lack of love for family, and that he turned on us, showing some seriously fucked up morals?" Damon challenged, smoothly arching a single eyebrow.

"He betrayed us to get his family back together, showing a love of family and good family morals. Plus, he did some good things, like saving Elena, saving you, not letting Klaus have the cure, you know, remember things like that?" mocked Bonnie.

"Oh, I remember. Alas, he was the one to put us in many dangerous situations and that kind of counteracts the good. Elijah does not take home the prize."

"Then the award would next fall to Stefan," Bonnie shrugged nonchalantly, but avoided looking anywhere near Damon.

Damon rolled his eyes, giving off a small, dark chuckle, "No. He's Saint Stefan. There is nothing sexy about a saint otherwise I would have been an extremely devout Catholic."

"You're just going to find fault with everyone who isn't you, aren't you?" his companion reluctantly concluded. His ego was too big for the boarding house.

Damon shook his head; his ebony hair stuck out in odd directions, having been messed up when he pulled the blankets on and off his head. "I don't find the faults. They are already blatantly there and make for automatic disqualifiers. I remain the sexiest vampire to have ever existed."

"You don't even know all the vampires!" exclaimed Bonnie, throwing her hands up in exasperations. The gleam in his eye told her he was being annoying just for the sake of it.

"Still. I'm the perfect model of a sexual deity. It's a blessing and a curse I would not even wish upon my own worst enemy, which is you, Bonnie Bennet, in case you didn't know," Damon used a loud, theatrical voice and broad, sweeping hand gestures to accompany his declarations.

"Right. Well, are you going shopping with your worst enemy today, planning a pity party, or looking for a way to get out of this weird universe?" Bonnie questioned, standing back up. The universe was annoyingly weird. Everyday they had to buy groceries because apparently, every morning at 4:37AM, the house would reset to exactly how it had been at 4:37AM on May 10,1994. That was when the newspaper would magically reappear. That left ingredients fit for Damon's pancake breakfast and pretty much nothing else. According to Damon there had been a party the day before and he figured that's where all the food went. What kind of party didn't have left overs?

Damon wondered about this for a few moments, wishing little judgy Bon-Bon would take her eyes off him. Today was one of those days where he felt like the universe had finally trapped him in an inescapable prison, which was long over due, truthfully. He didn't feel like going through the books they had been through 100 times would lead to any new discoveries today. Tomorrow he may contemplate looking for a way to escape but not today.

He wanted to throw himself into his memories of Elena and escape to his mind for today. It wasn't a pity party, just a trip down memory lane. However, he really didn't like that judging look in Bonnie's eye. The fact that she was so convinced that there was a way out of here and refused to face the fact that they may be stuck here, in his hell, forever, pissed him off. She never felt down or sad and when he felt those emotions it made him feel weak. He was _the _Damon Salvatore; he wasn't suppose to let emotions get in his way and make him weak. Yet, it was fucking emotions and damn humanity that landed him here in the first place.

He didn't want to seem weak, "Shopping, shopping, shopping. Doesn't it get tedious? Maybe today will be our lucky day and there will be a leprechaun there to great us." He was partially right.

He rolled out of bed and began to look for his shoes. _Damn you, Holly Maxwell, and your inability to keep your voice from cracking when saying a fucking rhyme._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Hi, again! Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, following, favorite-ing (favoring just sounds wrong)! Damon's glad to be back on the page! He enjoys being the center of attention. I think we will be seeing him in Mystic Falls quite soon. He's conflicted about being written with humanity but too bad.<strong>

**In case you guys are wondering, this will loosely follow season six's plot but will ultimately stray away from it. Unless the writers are reading my mind. You won't see scenes that are replays from the show.**

**Up next: Holly begins to see Mystic Falls:After Dark ;-) but my self confidence needs validation from a comment for an update... Usually really confident in my work but this is Greek to me. **


	4. September 9, 2012

September 9, 2012

A lock of deep auburn hair fell past her ear, resting on the right hand side of the binder of papers. Holly didn't notice until she finished with the left page, too engrossed in the transcripts of town hall minutes dating back to 1850. She huffed in annoyance; this was the third time this happened over the past two years of scripts. Noting the page number, she set three-ring binder down on the side table next to her. She honestly didn't know why she didn't hack off the massive amount of hair she had, she reflected as she pulled a scrunchie from her wrist and tied her hair back into a quick ponytail. Maybe it was because her mom always hated that she kept her hair short as a kid; now she felt obligated to keep it to at least past her shoulder blades.

Holly looked at her watch, 2:27; Elena would be here any minute. She picked back up the binder with photocopies of handwritten notes; perhaps she could skim through another year while she waited. Minutes of meetings in the years of the civil war and surrounding it were quite interesting and the meetings were held almost daily. It was logical; Virginia was right on the border of the Union and the Confederacy and Mystic Falls had been hit by the Union a few times. The town always managed to throw off the invading soldiers somehow. There was no vampire talk. Following the civil war and reconstruction era, minutes and meetings were sporadic and dull except for a short time around World War I when the town met monthly. She was now in 1927 and there would be months between meetings. They were short and mostly perfunctory.

"Sorry I'm late," a voice called, interrupting Holly's review of Mystic Falls, June 1927. She looked up at Elena's dazzling white smile, her long brown hair bouncing around her shoulders.

Holly gave a small, dismissive grin. "It's no problem," she shrugged, swapping the binder for her iced coffee. If only she didn't have to bother with this at all, that would be great.

"So, Holly, you want to be a doctor?" Elena asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

Holly sipped her coffee before scratching at an eyebrow. "I do. I also don't want to be here anymore than you do."

Elena's mouth flopped open, then shut but only to drop again. "N-no. I do want to be here."

"Trust me, this isn't how you planned on spending the first Sunday of your sophomore year. It wasn't how I planned on spending my first weekend of college. It's your first year working at the hospital. It's completely illogical that they give you someone to mentor; you know no more than I do. You're just as lost as I am. You can't guide me here." Holly simply stated all of this as if it were as plain as the sun shining off the reflective glass of the coffee shop.

Elena was offended. She _did _know at least a little more than this girl; had more college experience under her belt. "You're a freshman," she said, emphasising the last word, as if that explained it all.

Holly nodded slowly, "Yeah but I'm in the same biology and chemistry classes as you. I have enough credits to be considered a sophomore - a sophomore class standing is a requirement to volunteer at the clinic. You're brand new to the program and so am I. You're smart Elena. What's different between you and all the other mentors?"

Elena had never really talked to Holly. She had seen her at orientation meetings for the volunteer program but Holly had never spoken up. She hadn't even known who Holly was, despite the mandatory name tags, until she was assigned as her mentee on Wednesday. She seemed to just blend into the crowd or her surroundings. Elena, herself, wasn't aware she had even volunteered to be a mentor. She wasn't sure she liked Holly; she seemed very confident in herself and outspoken. Then again Caroline was confident in herself and blunter than a spoon. However, Caroline was her best friend; she was allowed to be like that. Maybe it was because Holly acted like she knew everything.

"They're juniors?"

That was something she had known that Elena hadn't seen. Was it arrogance if you were right? The way Holly held herself reminded Elena of someone but she wasn't sure who. Perhaps Uncle John?

"Exactly," Holly nodded, placing her drink on the table between them. "They've all had a year at the hospital. Yet they decide that you and I should be paired together. The idea of either a wanna be psychiatrist or a really bad one."

Elena didn't see what she was getting at. "Why do you say that?"

Holly raised an eyebrow in speculation, "You don't get why they would put _you _with _me_? It would be quite therapeutic to put the orphan and the orphan together so they can bond over the tragic loss over their parents together and form a close, never ending connection, to some idealistic shrink, don't you think?"

Elena's face fell. Orphans? _That's _why the name "Holly Maxwell" was familiar. There was some big court case about the death of her parents the summer before eighth grade, if she remembered correctly. She didn't really know any of the details, just that Holly had watched her parents be killed. Was that it? Was that why she had been selected as a mentor? To bond over parents passed?

"Sorry," Holly muttered, chewing her lip. She had seen Elena's hurt expression over what she had said. "I forget that not everyone is as…. callous to death as I am."

Now, that confused Elena. She could distress over her mentoring qualifications later. She brushed aside that Holly was apologizing for the wrong thing. This_ callous _thing she was interested in. She had experienced more death than anyone she had known and it was killing her _still_ that Bonnie was dead, four months later. Elena even felt a little bad about Damon's death, if only because it hurt Stefan so much.

"How are you calloused to death?" Elena wondered aloud.

Holly shrugged a shoulder, swirling around the coffee in her cup. The ice hit the plastic sides with satisfying plinks. "You either become desensitized to it or you let the nightmares drive you to madness. It's not really much of a choice if you value your sanity."

Elena nodded slowly; she knew what Holly meant. The nightmares of water filling her lungs, blackness gently pulling over her had called to her night after night for months after the car crash and her parents death. It wasn't until she met Stefan that those dreams had started to subside. Only on her darkest nights did they haunt her.

She got it. She did. Elena grieved over the loss of her parents, Aunt Jenna, Uncle John, Isobel Saltzman, Klaus taking Stefan hostage then shutting off his humanity, Bonnie dying, Alaric dying, and Jeremy dying, and Bonnie dying again. Death just seemed to follow her everywhere. Technically, even she was dead.

"My brother could use some callusing," she nodded slowly.

Holly was puzzled at Elena's far off expression. She had no idea where her brother had come from. "Your brother?"

"Yeah," Elena nodded, refocusing on Holly. She didn't really know Holly but if she was so nonchalant to death and forward about everything as she was being now, maybe she could get through to Jeremy. Elena couldn't go into Mystic Falls but maybe she could send a message another way. "His girlfriend, my best friend, died about four months ago. His idea of dealing with it is multiple girls, pot, and alcohol. Definitely not something I want for my little brother. The first week of senior year and he's already skipped two days. Of course, he won't listen to me. I'm just his bossy older sister trying to tell him how to live his life."

Holly's lips alternated from a small understanding smile on the right side of her face and then on the left and continued to shift the uncomfortable smile back and forth. She wasn't exactly a people person; this _gooey_ stuff was too much for her. She preferred facts that could be handled with intellect and logic. Right and wrong answers were black and white. _Gooey_ stuff had grey area and left everything for interpretation and she did not have a grey to English dictionary. She'd try what she'd been doing her whole adolescence; fake it until you make it.

"I'd say I understand, but I don't. No siblings and, honestly, I can't imagine losing a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a best friend at this age. How are you dealing with it, Elena?"

"It's terrible and awful but Bonnie was the kind of girl who wouldn't have wanted for someone to mourn her death for so long. She would want me to be happy and lively and excited about my life and the future and so that's genuinely what I am," Elena replied, a lightness in her voice. She knew she was right. Bonnie had died helping them. Trying to protect them. Saving everyone. Bonnie would want everyone to go on and be prosperous. "But Jeremy, I guess he doesn't get that. He doesn't seem to think he should go on and be happy because Bonnie can't. At least I think that's what he thinks. He doesn't really tell me much and I don't really get to see or talk to him that often."

That was curious. If Bonnie had been her best friend and her brother's girl friend, it was likely that the siblings were close; if not emotionally, at least geographically. Elena seemed pretty concerned, so why wasn't she seeing him more?

"Why not?" Holly questioned, her voice not too innocent or perceptive. She had lots of experience in people asking questions without betraying their intentions or thoughts. The therapists, the psychiatrist, the police, the lawyers, her grandparents.

"Well," she couldn't exactly say she'd undie and die if she set foot into Mystical Falls ever since the other side was destroyed. Maybe she could have been closer with him this summer if he would have driven up but he hadn't wanted to and she hadn't insisted because she'd been too...well, she didn't really know where her summertime went. She had actually done anything, at all. Not that she could remember. "I was really busy with summer school so I couldn't really find time to leave campus and I can't make him leave the boarding house."

Elena was thankful when Holly didn't question her summer school story. She was a little taken aback by the way her eyebrow raised after she finished talking.

"The boarding house?"

"The old Salvatore Stay Boarding House. He lives there with my best friend Matt," Elena clarified.

Holly had wondered if it was the Salvatore Stay Boarding House mentioned in the ledger of town meeting minutes. It was used for lodging for some soldiers during and right after World War I; it was mentioned in the town meeting minutes. She knew from the librarian Mrs. Price that it stopped being a boarding house in the early 70s. She was something of a local historian and had been very helpful in aiding Holly's quest to learn more about Mystic Falls.

"With the Salvatore family?" Holly inquired, trying not to sound too interested though anything connected to the Salvatore name could hold her in rapture.

"No, the family has mostly died out," although Elena thought Stefan may have mentioned Zach having a brother or some cousin, "or moved. We were just close to the brothers before they left and they let Jeremy and Matt stay there. "

"So, brothers were the last Salvatores to live at the boarding house? Why'd they leave? Where'd they go?" It was a miracle that Holly was able to let the words flow out separately rather than an unintelligible jumble. She couldn't hide the intrigue that slipped into her voice.

Elena shook her head, "They left because Mystic Falls just didn't suit them anymore. They were only around for a couple of years. I don't know where they went really. They were odd; kind of like a package deal. Where one went the the other would follow." She could hear the interest in Holly's voice. Holly did live in Mystic Falls, surely she had heard about the Founding Families and was interested in the Salvatores line. It was best if she just made them to be nuisances passing through.

She really didn't want to think about where Stefan was. She hadn't spoken to him since the night Bonnie and Damon died. Alaric and him were suppose to be working on leads to bring them back so that's what she figured he was doing. Even if they didn't still have romantic feelings for him, it kind of hurt that he couldn't be bothered to check in. Though, if he checked in with her, she would probably only depress him. She didn't believe there was a way to bring Bonnie and Damon back and she wasn't going to act like she believed there was a way. They had disappeared into oblivion.

"Well, that's really nice of them," remarked Holly, sipping on her iced coffee, her calm, detached demeanor returned, "yo let Jeremy and Matt stay at the house, still."

"It is. You know, I think you would really like my brother," Elena smiled, trying to get back on task.

"The one who skips school, smokes pot, drinks, and runs through girls?" Holly said flatly, not buying Elena's innocent smile or the sudden interest in seeing if she had split ends.

It sounded so bad when put that way. Jeremy was taking the loss of Bonnie way worse than Elena had been willing to admit to herself. "Well, I mean you might not like him but you would like to talk to him. He's really into local history; knows everything there is to know about Mystic Falls. I know you travel in for class; I assume you live at the Maxwell estate?"

Holly nodded. She saw where this was going but she wasn't interest in playing the game. Holly and people mixed like water and oil. Though, if Elena was right, Jeremy could have some intell she really wanted and it would be a lot easier to access it than going through several rows at the library. Could be worth the social torture. Or not. He was the definition of what she could not tolerate: a partying womanizer. Granted all that may be due to grief but still a drinker is still a drinker and a womanizer a womanizer and the same for the other vices.

"The Maxwell property ends right next to where the Salvatore property starts. You should swing by some time. I think he'd really like to meet you."

Holly rolled her jade eyes, _sure he would. _"Do you realize how big both properties are? The boarding house is still a few miles from the Maxwell family house."

"There are things called cars," pointed Elena, dramatically rolling her eyes.

With that, her attitude towards Elena improved just a bit. Turned out the girl could take a joke. Holly was beginning to think it was all emotions and goo all the time.

With a cheeky grin Holly quipped back in an old timey, Southern drawl, "I wasn't sure if you knew about those. They are very rare in the South. But once Ford's assembly line gets started, they are gonna pop up like flower in the spring." Elena looked puzzled but gave a small, polite laugh. Holly just didn't get just how to be normal. It was why she hated talking to people. She sighed and pulled out her phone, with her normal voice she passed the device to Elena, "I'll consider it. Give me his number so I don't catch him drunk, or high, or with a girl because I'm pretty sure I won't like that guy."

"Great," Elena smiled, taking the cell phone and delicately typing in Jeremy's cell phone number. She could read Holly's wariness of people and her particular aversion to her brother so she decided to help things along. She sent a text message to Jeremy.

_Jer- This is Holly's #. She's a freshman at Whitmore, moved to town 2 weeks ago & is interested in local history. Told her you know loads about it. You learned a lot when you wrote that paper for Ric, yeah? - She's shy. Play nice. 3Elena_

She quickly deleted evidence of sending the text message before handing the phone back to Holly. She had asked the other girl why she chose Whitmore to keep her distracted so she could write the text.

"Mostly because they have a really great research program for the type of medicine I want to study. It's a good pre-med school."

"What kind of medicine and research," Elena asked, passing the phone back as if nothing had happened.

"Clinical Nuerophysiology." Elena gave her the same reaction as most she had grown a third arm spontaneously. "It's a combination of Neurology and Psychiatry. What I want to look at is more research driven rather than healing and geared more towards a PhD. but funding is easier if I go to medical school than to graduate school."

Elena nodded slowly, "What do you want to research?"

"That's the beauty of research - I can look at multiple things. The first thing I'm interested in looking at is the developmental structure and design of the brain of a serial killer. Whitmore has been researching this topic since the 1930s and have made what people believe to be a lot of progress in the field. If I can get in on that research that will give me a huge foot in the door with grants and I will learn so much. It's a field that is extremely hard to gain access to due to the amount of serial killers and the amount of prisons that will let you test on them and then the actual number of serial killers who are willing to let you experiment on them. It's amazing that Whitmore has almost consistently been able to publish new findings in this field every five to seven years is almost unbelievable. That's extremely frequent in this field to come from one institution. I want to see if there is something that is physically different that makes them tick. And then there is the variety of serial killers.

"I also really want to look at people with a complete distortion of who they really are. The research from Whitmore on that is more limited and only came out a few years ago by a Dr. Wes Maxfield. He did a study on people who believed they were vampires, one of the belief criteria was that they had to actually consume blood, whether it was once or on a regular basis."

The girl was weird, possibly even twisted considering she was interested in the work of Dr. Wes Maxfield. "You do realize you're in a coffee shop casually discussing experimenting on serial killers, right, Holly?"

Holly's eyes shifted around the coffee shop. See, this is what she didn't get about people. Why couldn't this be discussed? It was what she wanted to do with her life so why not talk about it like it was a normal conversation? How was it any different from people discussing how they were going to become criminal defense attorneys or firefighters?

"Yeah?"

"Oook, just checking," Elena shrugged. If Holly didn't care if people thought she was crazy, she'd go along with it. "So why the interest in serial killers?"

"The guy who killed my parents is a serial killer. He gave his reasons for killing them but something about him was peculiar. I've read more about other serial killers and they all seem to have a similar peculiarity to them. From the research, I haven't found a suitable explanation. I want to see if I can find it," Holly responded hesitantly. She didn't want it to seem like her career goals were because she obsessed over her parents' murderer. She didn't know if that was true or not but she was afraid that if she looked too closely she'd find the answer and not like it.

Elena felt bad for the girl. It had to have been horrible to watch her parents be killed. She was so disturbed by it that it shaped what she was doing with her future. "You said he _is_ a serial kill. I thought they caught him."

Holly shook her head, "They caught the wrong guy. It took them 96 minutes to deliberate and find the guy charged 'not guilty.' Even if it was him, he would still be a serial killer, unless he had been put to death. Someone doesn't stop being a serial killer just because they are locked away. It doesn't rewire their brain and cure whatever makes them a serial killer."

"You're right. I never looked at it that way," Elena said thoughtfully. She could tell she had stepped on tender ground and was trying to make up for it. She was surprised that Holly was even telling her this much. "So, what about people who think they're vampires?"

"The guy who killed my parents really believed he was a vampire. I want to understand how people can believe something so false to be utter truth and fact about themselves. Where is the disruption in the brain that convinces someone to actually drink blood.? How is someone so tricked, by themselves, into fiction? More importantly, how do you reverse that? How do you cure a vampire?"

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you everyone so much for reading, following, reviewing, and favorite-ing. It means so much to me! With a new writing technique and new fandom, I'm wondering if I should scrap this and turn to what I know...**

**_What do you guys think of Holly so far?_ Totally messed up by Damon, born a little off, or doing pretty well considering everything? I'd honestly love to hear your opinions on this one. It would make a huge impact on how I write this**

**Next up: Holly begins to find out a little more about Mystic Falls**


	5. September 19, 2012

**A/N: A little review and reorganization was done and the old/new chapter that belongs here is now Chapter 3 May 10, 1994 (Again)**

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><p>September 19th, 2007<p>

A persistent buzzing irked her; she was trying to memorize the azimuthal quantum numbers of the most common and relevant elements and nitrogen was giving her a difficult time. Chemistry was the only class she ever struggled with and it looked like organic chemistry wasn't going to be any different. That damn vibrating sound was just a distraction. Holly snatched her phone off the desk next to her. Sometimes the convenience of technology was the exact opposite.

She intended on shutting the thing up but saw that she had a text message. Her grandmother could barely figure out how to make a phone call on her cellphone and Holly doubted she was capable of texting. The only people who texted her were two other video game playing nerds but they knew her playtime was only restricted to weekends since school started. It really wasn't a long list of people who had her number. Well, Elena had her number but what could she possibly want? Definitely nothing important enough to stop focusing on organic chem. Unless, it was help with it; they were in the same class and had the same assignment due tomorrow. It wasn't likely though. Curiosity got the better of her.

**Hey. It's Jeremy Gilbert. My sister Elena gave me your number. Hope you don't mind. She can be a little… pushy. She mentioned you were wondering about the history of Mystic Falls. The library and the news stations' old archive are good places to start but I know things that can't be found in public records. Thing is, not everyone is privy to this information. You have to prove you're smart enough not to exploit it. Riddle me this and I'll share what I know: what something, that if you keep, will never get old? If it springs a leak, it's value unfolds.**

No wonder her phone wouldn't shut up; the message came in three separate texts. Holly honestly had no intentions of going to Jeremy Gilbert for information. He really just seemed like a sleazy slacker that, even if she got useful information from him, she would go insane dealing with him. Grief stricken or not, she didn't put up with excuses for excessive using girls. She'd be a hypocrite if she held the alcohol and pot and class skipping against him; she had taken her anti-anxiety and sleeping pills during the day, when there was no anxiety. They left her in peace on those days she just couldn't bare to go to school.

She said it was the depression making her feel so awful that she couldn't face school. She chalked it up to the impulsivity and irrational thoughts of mania when she swallowed the pills. On those rare days that she was feeling weak and took her therapist's advice, she'd faced the darkest parts of herself to admit that it was just her addictive tendencies and laziness. She succumbed to her own weakness from time to time so it wasn't her place to judge others. Except when she gave into her vices, no one got hurt. Holly made an exception about judging people when a person's action started to affect those around them; when tendencies turned into addiction and loved ones got hurt or when girls were used like throwaway napkins.

While her disinterest in Jeremy was clear, there was an arrogance in his text messages that annoyed her. Did he come across a bit proud and as a dick? Holly wasn't one to usually be rude to people she didn't even know but this guy really bothered her. His sister's information on him and his nerve to text her were simply bothersome. He needed to be knocked down a peg. Without thinking, her chemistry homework long forgotten, she quipped out a responding message.

_A secret. This info of yours must be known to everyone in town if that's a riddle. Beyond suggesting a better riddle to "test" people, I wouldn't recommend hinting at the answer: "not everyone is privy to it"_

With a little chastising and insulting out of her system and her phone now silent, azimuthal quantum numbers were going to get their butts handed to them. She was fairly certain she had a solid mnemonic device to remember nitrogen since it seemed like it wasn't going to just be memorized like other elements.

_Now, _she was really annoyed when her phone started going off again. Holly did plan to stay focused on her homework but again curiosity got the better of her. What could Jeremy Gilbert have possibly responded with?

**You're right. That was kind of obvious. Or you're just really smart since you got it instantly and I'm believing it's obvious because I already knew the answer. I didn't even realize I had put a hint in there. You get points for spotting that. Here IS a secret: some of what I know is known by a substantial amount of people in town - an elite society you could say. It's invitation only. So, to double check and make sure that wasn't an obvious riddle and I'm going to share my knowledge with just anyone here's one that had me stuck for 2 days: ****I am eight letters long and am kept a secret from everyone. Letters two through four spell an animal, letters four to the end make a weapon, letters one, two and eight make what you use in an exam and my third and fourth letters are the same.**

She didn't know why but the fact that she had to endure the vibrations of her phone for four text messages to pass through really peeved her. Did the guy not know how to send a short message? She'd manage to put everything she wanted to say to him in one text. Massive texts that were multiple "pages" tended to come in weird orders and sometimes whole parts of the texts didn't arrive. Thankfully these seemed to be complete and in order, otherwise she would have disliked Jeremy even more, even though she knew he had no control over cell phone towers and signals. Though she was a little proud of her skills in rationality, she didn't have to defend every reason she didn't like a person with logic. Sometimes she went on gut instinct or in this case, fought gut instinct _to _like him. Saying she was possibly smart or giving her kudos for being observational and seeming charismatic in text didn't exactly erase what she knew.

_Damn him._ What was this about some elite society? Mystic Falls was not Los Angeles; she highly doubted this club was for high tea and to gossip about the millionaire's wife having a tryst with the pool boy. There were only elite societies for two things: gossip and secrets. Those were basically the same thing. so only one purpose: secrets. Of course, there was that exclusion factor to any club that made others feel like rejects and crap. Holly figured her original number was right, two reasons. Now she wanted to know about the "invitation-only" society. However, it seemed the only way she was going to find that out was by playing along with Jeremy. At least it would be the most convenient; she wasn't fond of the idea of asking the town folk about an elite society. People, talking, her, ew.

Holly began to chew on the clue. Without realizing it she started writing down possible answers on her organic chemistry homework. Thirty minutes passed, the assignment was long forgotten and the page sprawled with eight letter words, each letter carefully underlined.

"That's crap!" Holly scolded to her empty bedroom. "Who the hell uses a pad for an exam? Never once have I taken a test on a pad. I've taken one on paper but never on a damn _pad._ What kind of crummy clue was that?

_When did you take an exam on a pad?_

Holly was slightly surprised when Jeremy texted her back right away.

**You got it?! In less than an hour?! That's insanely fast. That one, two and eight part was the exact same part that had me stuck. I have never taken an exam on a pad nor do I know anyone who ever has. Did you use the internet? Or are you really just that clever? **

Holly stared in disbelief at her phone. He did it again. That could have been condensed into one text. Was it necessary to make it two? God, if he made his text messages this long she could only imagine how much he talked.

_I'm not THAT clever but I didn't use the net. I was under the impression you had composed the riddle yourself. Now, I'm much less impressed with you, Jeremy Gilbert. If your knowledge is so precious, put some thought into protecting it. Any Joe Blow could have found the answer on the internet. _

**How are you always right? I really do need to figure out better means of weeding out those unreliable enough to contain this knowledge. You should help me. I am hardly intelligent enough to figure out a fail proof method.**

He went two characters over the one text message limit! Was it really so hard to keep things to one text? So many times she had considered getting a prepaid cell phone that would charge you by the text since she rarely used them but this had to be the one instance she was grateful she had unlimited texting. Jeremy Gilbert would have drained her bank account in multiple text messages; she was certain of it.

Holly was too annoyed about the multiple texts to be bothered by his flirting attempts. At least that's what she thought it was; she really didn't get people and she didn't have the faintest clue about relationships or flirting or dating. It was all _gooey_ and messy and she couldn't understand why people wasted so much time, money, and emphasis on finding a significant other. It just made life complicated from what she had seen in movies and TV; that was the limit of her exposure, besides her parents and grandparents. In her opinion, her mom died because her husband had crazy family drama. Her grandfather and grandmother were the product of some Norwegian, post-World War II, business marriage arranged before birth and found their lives to be happier if her grandmother lived on the first floor of the home and her grandfather on the second. Though she was frequently reassured that they loved each other and her. Really, Holly couldn't see the point of it all; arranged for money or not. Living in her own bubble and not having to worry about someone else was way easier. She didn't like picking a restaurant when going places with people in case they didn't like it; why would she want every single decision to be like that?

_I'm not always right but the odds of me being right have always been in my favor, historically speaking. Though not by an extraordinary margin. I'll help you after you've shared some of your knowledge. Fair trade. Until we construct a solid lock to your brain, I recommend you share your information with only me. _

There! Now he could deal with the nuisance of multiple texts.

**Solid plan. Fair exchange, as you said. Look at you being right again! We better get on top of this if we want to protect my knowledge. We should meet soon. **

Maybe he got the message. He finally managed to say everything in one text. She was reluctant to meet on a school night but the allure of information known to an elite society was just too enticing. Wait, tomorrow was a Thursday; that use to be a school night. She was in college now. Holly had structured her schedule so that her weekends started Thursday night. Oh, the liberation of college and living on her own.

_Are you able to inform me tomorrow?_

**Gladly. What time do you finish classes? Meeting early will give us more time to review the material. **

_I'm done by 12:00 but I'm at the clinic with your sister until 2:00. _

**Cool. Want to meet at the Mystic Grill at 2:30? Do you know where that is? The town isn't that big. It's like right in the middle of the town square. It's pretty much the local hangout. The library is so quiet that we might be overheard but the Grill will have enough chatter to cover anything we might say. **

He was back to the multiple texts. That was just plain aggravating. At least she had turned off the vibration on her phone so she didn't have to deal with that particular issue.

_Um, how about not? To tell you the truth, your sister's intentions are not as direct as they may seem. Helping me learn local history and...whatever it is that you think you're suppose to be getting out of this. I happen to know Mystic Falls High doesn't get out until 4:00. Since your sister was kind enough to send me in your direction (though technically you came to me soooo...yeah), I wouldn't feel right giving you an excuse for truancy. _

Maybe another multi-text message was in order to get him to cut back on all the rambling. She really didn't want to play devil's advocate for Elena and get involved in the relationship between her and her brother but it sounded like the kid was headed down a dark path.

**So that's why Elena told me to play nice. She's using you to manipulate me. I bet she told you about Bonnie? Well, I thought she was trying to set me up. I apologize for my more forward behavior. Ok, I'll go to class so you don't feel guilty. Not because of Elena. 4:15?**

Holly did feel bad about manipulating him but she couldn't help feel a slight sense of victory that Jeremy would not be skipping school tomorrow. She wasn't exactly going to let herself be used by Elena but if she had an opening here or there to steer Jeremy back on track. At least he admitted he came on strong and apologized for it. Though, would he have done that if he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere? Either way, she had to keep telling her gut not to like this guy. Bad kid. Bad news. No go.

_Deal. I'll be by the pool tables - probably the only girl there reading by herself. If there are two, I'm the pale one with like burgundy brown hair and really pale skin. If there are two like that, just ask them both what's the answer?_

She was pretty sure Ms. Price had sent her off her off in the wrong direction when she told her to go looking through Aztec culture to learn more about Mystic Falls history. Flipping the page of the paperback, Holly wasn't quite sure she found the connection between the town she was now calling home, a group of people who worshipped a sun/war god and were from central America. The detail was either blatantly obvious or too minute for her to see. Holly was detail oriented but not obsessive. She was never good at seeing the obvious though; things always had to be more complicated than they looked?

"What's the answer?" teased a deep voice, drawing Holly out of the book.

She saw the boy in front of her, his brown hair hanging just past his ears and his deep brown eyes paired well with his broad shoulders. She hadn't expected him to be so physically fit. Pointedly, she looked at the tables around her.

"You know, you were only suppose to ask that if there were two girls with burgundy brown hair, pale skin and reading by themselves. I only count one," Holly stated factually, closing her book and resting it on the high, circular bar table.

Jeremy grinned and pulled out the seat across from her. He had a feeling she wasn't going to offer so he figured he'd take it upon himself. "That's what you said. I never actually agreed to it. I would like to know the answer as you never actually gave me the answer to the riddle," he chuckled.

"You noticed that, then," Holly remarked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. She had to admit that she was slightly impressed. "Maybe we won't have to work that hard to put a lock on your brain. The answer is a password."

Jeremy gave her a wink and a click of his tongue, indicating that she was right. "So from the first riddle we have a secret and the second riddle we have a password. Understanding Mystic Falls all relies on knowing the secret password."

"I don't suppose you'll just simply tell me this 'secret password' so that we may move along, will you?" Holly said wearily, fighting back a smile. She liked how he used previous, irrelevant information seem relevant.

He shook his head, a hint of excitement in his otherwise sad and lonely eyes. "That would be far too simple. Besides, if I just gave you the password without you having to figure it out, you won't have any idea what is in the significance of the secret password."

"Right," drawled Holly. "First clue?"

"What do you know about Mystic Falls?" inquired the young man, propping his chin on the heel of his hand, his elbow on the table.

"Well, that's kind of hard to answer. I know a little here and a little there. I guess, first, Mystic Falls was technically founded in 1960."

Jeremy order a Pepsi as a waitress came over and asked him if he wanted anything. She knew his name. Was this one of those towns where everyone knows everyone or was this guy just that popular, Holly pondered.

Jeremy's face broke out into a toothy grin, "First try and you already have the first word of the two word password."

"Which word?" Holly pushed, knowing he wouldn't answer. He liked playing this game. She'd go along with it; at least she knew how to respond to the questions. It was facts it wasn't chit chat or gooey stuff.

Jeremy teasingly responded, "Which one do you think?"

She had this. It was just a simple process of elimination. Mystic and Falls were ruled out as a combination but they could be singularly, most likely in relation to a place. If it were a place it would be a place that was the source of all the information. All the town government buildings and schools and even the library contained "Mystic Falls". She didn't know of any place that involved a singular version of the word except the Mystic Grill and The Falls. There would be would have to be some basement or underground source for the info, she had been to both places and hadn't noticed anything. "Was" and "technically" would be last resort choices; they didn't belong in a secret password. "Founded" was a good option, it was historical and just sounded like it belonged.

"Founded?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner and on her first try!" Jeremy cheered and clapped his hands quietly so as not to draw attention to them. "Except go with the present participle."

Holly nodded externally while inside her mind was racing. _What the hell was a present participle? _She barely knew what a verb, noun, subject, and adjective were. She understood the present tense part but not the participle concept. Grammar was never her strong suit. She could never remember all of the rules. Find? No, that was just present. Finding? But that wasn't found anymore. Founding? Then that wasn't present tense but maybe tense had nothing to do with a present participle? What were those words called when they all ended in -ing? Could that be this?

"So, founding?" Holly remarked, attempting an off handed sound but Jeremy could hear the anxiety in her voice.

"Right. Now, the next part, did you know that there has always been a Gilbert in Mystic Falls since it was founded? The people who own the many largest estates, their ancestors have been here since at least 1860. Most offspring move away, like your dad, but at least one always stays," Jeremy confessed, lowering his voice and trying to sound mysterious.

"You mean the Founding Families?" Holly whispered as that was as loud as she could make herself at that moment. A shiver and goose bumps ran through and over her whole body. _He_ had talked about the Founding Families. But he was insane; it couldn't have been real.

Jeremy's eyebrows raised, a surprised but very interested look crossed his face. "You've heard of them?"

"In passing, a long time ago," murmured Holly, her mind back in the coat closet trying to remember everything _the _Damon Salvatore had said in relation to the Founding Families. "A member from each family is suppose to be represented on a council. Is that council the elite society you were talking about?"

"Yeah, the apparently not so secret Secret Council," he answered hesitantly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Maybe this was a really bad idea. The idea of someone knowing about a vampire killing society when his sister was a vampire didn't sound good. Jeremey had only intended to mention the vampire lore but how was he suppose to explain the purpose of the Council. She may already know. "How much do you know about it?"

Holly looked as uncertain as he felt; he hoped he was better at masking his emotions. She shrugged, stirring her straw in her Sprite, "I'm not really certain of what's true. I heard it through the ramblings of a mad man. The Founding Families are to be represented on the council for public relation and political reasons. According to him, the Council is suppose to protect the town from vampires. Do the Founding Families own like, everything? Or do they think they are an elite ruling class? He said they think the town belongs to them. Exactly which families are the Founding Families? I know that the Maxwells once were."

She knew way too much. Thankfully, she didn't know what was real and what wasn't. He could at least answer her questions so far, honestly. "You're still alive. The Maxwells are still members of the Founding Families."

Holly shuddered again. She didn't like being reminded of that. It made her fear that the man who killed her parents was going to come after her. He had said he had wanted to end the Maxwell line. She liked being Holly Jones, a child living with her grandparents in the City of Angels. For years after her parents death her real last name haunted her in dreams; it would appear out of nowhere and on anything and voices would call it out, making her jump each time. It was her therapist idea that she convert back to Maxwell upon moving to Mystic Falls.

Now, like every time her last name gave her pangs of anxiety, she turned to her coping world, the magical universe of Harry Potter, to deal. _Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself._ It wasn't her last name she feared but the associations and implications that came with it. _Maxwell_ was why her parents were murdered. No, it was how they were chosen. The why was because a vampire had issues with some council that the _Maxwells_ were linked to. _Holly Maxwell _ was the last of her family name and she was pretty sure _the _Damon Salvatore wanted her dead.

Jeremy didn't notice the shudder, "The other families are the Lockwoods, the Salvatores, the Fells, the Forbes and my family, the Gilberts. Six total. There were the Smallwoods but the last of them died in 1994. A lot of the business real estate is owned by the Lockwoods and the Fells and that is how they've acquired massive amounts of money. The Salvatores own like all the land that doesn't have a building on it or belonging to another founding family as they made their fortune in lumber. A Grayson Gilbert lost a crazy amount of the Gilbert fortune in the 1929 stock market crash but a lot was greatly invested in certain stock bonds and continues to grow. Up until my father's death it was tradition that a Gilbert was the town doctor. The Forbes, for some reason, never really made the same amount of money as the other families. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the Forbes have always served in the defense and protection of the town and were paid on government salaries while the others were in the private sector. I don't really know about the Smallwoods; I've never met them. Same goes for the Maxwells, although I'm sure there are records somewhere in that giant estate that say where they money came from."

"They partnered with the Gilberts, sort of. The Maxwells ran the apothecary, the drug store, the pharmacist, you know, the remedies to the Gilbert's diagnosis," Holly rattled off, remembering what the book in what was a library in the main family house. With six bedrooms, four bathrooms, two living rooms, a library and a den the house was so large that she felt creeped out being alone in it. She stayed in the guest house behind the main house; even with three bedrooms and two bathrooms it still got creepy and was way too big for her.

"Seems like we're fated to make a good pair," Jeremy concluded, before realizing how suggestive he sounded and tacked on, "on creating a good safe lock for my brain.

The secret of the Founding Families is that they were and are very good at keeping secrets. All the families have some way of passing on their knowledge and what they know. Gilberts have journals for example. I'm guessing it's journals for all families; how else do you keep records from 1860 to 2012?" Jeremy supplied.

"So, you think that there are some Maxwell Family secrets somewhere?" excitement and curiosity seeped into Holly's voice.

"I'm sure," he affirmed. "Find that information and then come find me."

Holly gave him a cool, skeptical look, "Why would I come to you with my family's secrets?"

"Oh, you wouldn't," Jeremy grinned genuinely, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time since the other side was destroyed, "you're too smart for that. You won't tell me any secrets but you'll have questions about what you find. I can help you find those answers. The Founding Families are the true secret holders and true past of Mystic Falls. You don't want the lore from the library or public records or history about all the Founder's parties. The Families is the center of it all."

Holly gave Jeremy a half-grin her mind already spinning wild theories on secrets. There was that one room in the family house that was never finished in the remodeling it was packed it old trunks and boxes. She recalled a heavy, elegantly carved wooden chest that had been filled with very old, leather journals. Looked like she was going to have to go digging through those.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Hi! Hope you guys liked the update! Did you guys like Jeremy? I like his character and he hasn't been around enough this season so I thought he had some time to spare with Holly <strong>

**Up next: Holly begins to uncover some secrets and we see a refreshing face ;-)**

**Guess on who we will be seeing? **

**Please comment, favorite, and follow!**


	6. October 20, 2012

October 20th, 2012

This is too much.

Holly set her phone down, after seeing the message was sent. Her burgundy hair contrasted harshly against the pale yellow comforter of the guest bed she leaned against. Sitting on the floor, she couldn't help but glare at the several leather bound journals littering the space around her. At least 17 could be counted in eyesight. There were four moving boxes in the corner packed with journals that she had finished reading and a box and a half that she had yet to go through in an opposite corner. These were only the journals she had moved to the guest house. The room in the main house stuffed with boxes of journals made these few, measly boxes seem like a drop in the ocean. And Holly was drowning. There was no way she was ever going to get through all of this reading. She was spending so much time on it that she was already losing sleep and fallng behind in social psychology and organic chemistry.

"Stop callin', stop callin'

I don't wanna talk anymore"

The loud, practically unfamiliar tone startled Holly. She picked up her cell, looking at the wailing, vibrating object like it was an extraterrestrial device. Nobody called her. She checked in with her grandparents every other Sunday for five minutes and that was the extent of her phone use. She had selected the Lady Gaga ringtone for a reason and it wasn't because she was a fan of the artist. Talking on the phone was even worse than talking to a person face to face. The anxiety it produced was debilitating.

"Jeremy? What are you doing calling me?" quizzed Holly, oddly holding the phone to her ear, as if it was unfamiliar to her.

There was a silence on the other end for a second, "You texted me?"

"And you're suppose to text back," Holly stated simply.

Jeremy laughed, the frequency waves of cell phones making his voice sound deeper. "They're called phones, Holly; you talk on them. You text message when that is more convenient, instead of dealing with voicemail and playing phone-tag."

"Hardy-har-har. Texting you was more convenient than calling. Calling requires me to exert more energy and spend more time discussing things I don't have to talk about, like calling, for example," pointed Holly; talking on the phone gave her really bad anxiety. She never knew when it was her turn to talk and there was always awkward silence and she didn't have body clues to try and interpret people.

"Alright, noted," caught Jeremy, catching the hint of annoyance in her voice, unable to see it was actually anxiety. "So, I'm guessing you found out however the Maxwells preserved their secrets? And what those secrets were? It can be a lot to take in."

Holly pinched the bridge of her nose, she could feel the beginnings of a migraine. She sighed heavily into the phone, the lack of sleep she had been running on for the last month finally showing through, "Yeah. Well, it's more like it's like way too much to figure out. I got the basics pretty quick. The rest? Not so much. That's kind of why it's taken a month for me to get back to you."

"You mean, you wrapped your head around the existence of vampires pretty quick?" His voice skeptical, almost as if he were waiting for her to breakdown or scream that everyone in this town was insane.

Holly nodded, only to remember that he couldn't see her. "It's not exactly the first time I've heard of vampires and witches being real. The City of Angeles has a pull to the supernatural," Holly joked, hoping to brush aside exactly how she wasn't too fazed to find out about vampires. Need some help sorting it out?" Jeremy asked, as genuine concern lacing his voice that surprised Holly.

"With that name, it does sound like Los Angeles would be a Disneyland for the supernatural. Though, I imagine only the good guys would go there. The bad guys would probably be smoldered by the wrath of heavenly fire or the spirits would give them constant aneurysms," the boy surmised, speculating if Los Angeles could have a supernatural pull like Mystic Falls seemed to.

"That would be a nice idea," sighed Holly, "but Los Angeles is Hollywood adjacent; a land of fortune and fame. It makes for the perfect breeding, feeding, and turning ground of the supernatural. The name provides no protection. Are there any words that can protect someone from a vampire?"

Jeremy paused for a minute to think, "Well, I suppose a witch could perform a spell to ward off a vampire but if you're asking if there is like a Hail Mary or anything like that, I don't think so."

"Shame. I was hoping for a Latin chant that would banish them to hell," Holly grumbled, flopping onto the more comfortable bed rather than sitting on the floor.

Jeremy gave another deep, genuine laugh, "I think you've been watching too much Ghostfacers. That's demons that get banished anyway to hell. Since vampires are already dead I don't know exactly what would happen to them."

Holly rolled her eyes, at least he was kind of keeping up a conversation with her. Most people couldn't do that. Plus, he knew about Ghostfacers which almost automatically made him at least kind of cool. But, still, he didn't pay enough attention and reason apparently.

"They would go to purgatory. Not like Christian purgatory or Dante's but supernatural purgatory. You know, like some dimension keeping them from ours."

That's where Jeremy knew Holly was wrong. Supernatural creatures went to the other side when they died and they were trapped watching the world move-on without them. But that was when there was the Anchor, keeping the other side intact. The other side was destroyed though when he lost her. He didn't know where she was. Part of him wanted to find out about this purgatory and see if that was older than the veil and where all the supernatural creatures now where. Part of him wanted to figure a way to get her out of purgatory, if that's where she was.

Then there was the part of him that just wanted to escape the pain of missing her; the part that used girls and pot and alcohol to avoid the pain. That part of him hoped that where she was, Bonnie couldn't see him, Couldn't see that he was doing and feeling better ever since he first talked to Holly. Even though this was technically the third time he was talking to her, he was doing better; the pain of missing Bonnie was a little more tolerable.

"I suppose that is a secret we will never know. The secrets of the Founding Families can at least be discovered, eventually," chirped Jeremy, trying to steer the topic back to what he had called her about. He didn't need her to notice the dark turn in his thoughts.

"Thought that the Founding Families kept their secrets to their own bloodlines. Are you trying to get into the pants of all the Maxwells at once?" fished Holly, speculating that his eagerness to help her had to do with uncovering what knowledge was within the Maxwell line.

A couple of miles away, Jeremy raked a hand through his brown hair; it was getting long again. What would it take for this girl to trust him?

"When this all started they did keep their greatest secrets to themselves, sort of. But, you know, things change in 150 years. Besides, I'm not asking for your family secrets. I'm offering to explain why there is this insanity to sort out anyways. Help you wrap your head around everything that is too much," Jeremy explained softly, as if talking to a wounded animal. He hadn't talked to her since they had met at the Grill and he had given up on hearing from her again after two weeks. He figured he had been too assertive, too aggressive. She could hold her own but she shouldn't have to.

"Ok," the final words were so soft that he almost didn't catch them, "thank you."

"No problem, Holly. The Gilberts and Maxwells have worked together since before the actual founding of the town. We diagnosed the citizens, you cured them for ages. I'm sure there were a few pairs who lined their pockets by diagnosing a fake illnesses but in the end, it seems like we are a fated pair. Now, how can I help?" comforted Jeremy.

"Catch me up from the beginning until to now? How vampires had such a prevalence in the town in 1864. It's rare for them to settle down and nest like that. At least tell me what you know about what happened," hoped Holly.

Jeremy immediately started thinking of what he would have to omit and what he could share, "You're working on understanding this mess? I can fill you in now if you want. I have nothing but time."

"Time now?" hesitated Holly; she wanted to understand this mess. She needed to understand what Mystic Falls was.

"You bet," came an instant reply, "just tell me where at."

Holly pushed herself off the floor as the chime of a doorbell echoed through the guest house. She jogged down the stairs to the front door; if she went slowly, she knew she'd end up tumbling to the bottom. Reaching the heavy oak door, she pulled it open to find Jeremey waiting for her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie and a backpack casually slung over one shoulder.

"Hey, Jeremy," she smiled stepping aside, allowing him a path to enter the house. "Everything I've been looking at is in a spare room up stairs."

Jeremy's brown eyes locked with her green ones as he deliberately, slowly stepped into the house. Holly noticed a look of sadness flash within his once he was in the doorway.

Jeremy stepped out of the way so Holly could close the door behind him. She had made sure not to invite him in; that was just one more innocent person sucked into this crazy world. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty for giving her the little information and guidance he had.

"Lead the way," he said, forcing a grin.

"You will have to excuse the mess. I've been a little distracted," Holly murmured with embarrassment as she led him up to the second floor.

Jeremy had no idea what mess she was talking about as the house looked pristine and barely lived in; at least until they reached the spare bedroom. It looked like the several moving boxes crammed in the room had regurgitated tatter, old books, many bound shut by what looked like a leather clasp.

"Welcome to the work of Elias Maxwell, circa 1856," she said pointing to the four boxes stacked in one corner, "to 1864," she sighed, indicating all the books that covered the floor.

"There are not this many Gilbert Journals," was all Jeremy could think to say.

"Well, I've tried to make heads and tails of most of this but look at it," Holly huffed, shoving one of the books into his hands.

Jeremy watched Holly take a seat on the bed, before doing so to. He delicately turned through the old pages of the leather bound resource. It was filled with all kinds of partially drawn diagrams with physics and mathematical equations written and struck out nexted to them or some boldly circled and underlined. Other pages held what he knew to be some kind of chemistry based on the familiarity of some elements but beyond that he had no idea what it mean. It was a bunch of complicated nonsense.

"Is this what they are all like?" he wondered, still interested in some of the diagrams. They looked like some kinds of weapons.

"The one's from Elias Maxwell are all pretty much like that. There are about ten journals from his brother Everest Maxwell that aren't in latin that explain everything. Well, not Elias's journals but everything that was going on in the late 1850s to 1864," responded Holly, picking up a stack of journals he hadn't noticed neatly piled in a corner.

"Everest gives a basic idea of what was going on but within them, he says the Maxwells were always kind of on the outside of the Founding Families because Elias didn't always agree with the Council and would do things they disagreed with. Plus," added Holly, pointing to the journal Jeremy was still holding, "he was a bit of an oddity, obviously."

Jeremy looked at Holly; she was tired and she definitely was avoiding the major information she had found.

Holly sat there quietly for a few minutes, running her thumb up and down the spine of one of Everest Maxwell's journal. His last journal before the vampire roundup in 1864. Elias had written that he had been killed. Everest's last entry was the one causing her the most problems.

"Vampires, Jeremy?" she asked softly. Yes, she believed Damon Salvatore was a vampire. She had even gone to extreme measures to protect herself from vampires but it was another thing entirely to actually have proof that they were really and she wasn't just crazy. It almost felt safer believing that she was losing her sanity than the fact that vampires existed.

He nodded slowly, seeing how bad she didn't want this to be true but she was a Founding Family member and she was safer knowing what was really out there. "Yeah. All the vampires in 1864 were gathered into an old church and burned. One of the few ways to truly kill a vampire. Mystic Falls didn't really have much of a vampire problem after that for awhile. Every now and then there would be a string of disappearances and animal attacks but the Council would always take out the vampire."

"Does Elena know about all this? Actually, have you seen her? She was suppose to be at the clinic with me this morning but...yeah," Holly finished lamely.

Jeremy's eyes briefly narrowed. He had thought about this and he still wasn't sure what was the right answer, "She's down visiting her ex in Georgia or maybe it was South Carolina, I don't exactly remember."

"Stefan?" Holly asked hesitantly, not knowing if she wanted an answer.

"Mhm," Jeremy confirmed, gingerly taking one of Everest Maxwell's journal and pursuing it.

Bright green eyes became forest green as she eyed Jeremy with distrust, "Stefan Salvatore, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jeremy muttered, particularly interested in Everest Maxwell's description of taking down a very old vampire with a simple slingshot type device and a rock.

"Why the interest?" he asked after a moment, noticing the shift in the environment and Hollys silence.

Holly had no actual proof but she had a strong suspicion that the odd pair of brothers were Damon and Stefan Salvatore. Upon arrival to the town, one of the first things she sought to learn was of the Damon Salvatore. He'd had a brother named Stefan. They had died together. Obviously, Damon belong in World War Z or The Walking Dead. It was possible that Stefan had been too.

Considering Mystic Falls hadn't been sucked dry in the past few years, she didn't think Damon had been here. She didn't think the pair of brothers in the old boarding house had been them due to the lack of bloody massacres, proof of Stefan turning and the fact that, from what she could remember, Damon had been resentful for being considered a traitor and not the prodigal son. That didn't sound like the makings of a relationship where one would follow the other, as Elena had said.

"He's a member of a Founding Family. I asked if Elena knew about all this insanity. Plus, I am wondering if you're trying to get all the Maxwell secrets. Remember the accusation of you trying to get into the pants of every Maxwell?" Holly added the last parts lightly; she had had practiced lying so much since the murder that she knew when the truth had to be added to make a lie believable. "She dated a Salvatore and could have gotten into all their pants before dumping him and taking the family secrets with her. Now it's her brother's turn with the Maxwells."

Jeremy shook his head firmly, "No. If my parents were alive, she would know about this since it's a family thing. But, they aren't and she didn't find the Gilbert journals so I haven't told her. I don't want her to be involved in any of this insanity. All she knows about vampires and Mystic Falls is that I wrote about the 1864 massacre as a town folk lore for a history paper."

Holly still couldn't help but think of the tiniest possibility that vampire the Damon Salvatore and his vampire brother Stefan, Elena's ex boyfriend were the brothers that she and Jeremy had been so close to. It was first just a fleeting thought that ran through her mind when she mentioned her ex's name was "Stefan" but she couldn't let the idea go.

"But by not knowing, it's not safe-"

Jeremy could sense her fear and concern for his sister and all he wanted was to comfort Holly. "The last time there was vampire outbreak it was a shock. The vampires - "

"Were the ones who should have burned to death in 1864?" asked Holly, knowing the answer. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to stave off a panic attack.

Jeremy gave her a startled look. Nobody had known that those vampires hadn't died. "How did you know that?"

Holly shifted uncomfortably on the bed, turning herself to face Jeremy, sitting with her legs crossed Indian style. "You know my parents are dead but did you know they were murdered by a man claiming to be a vampire? He didn't exactly act like a vampire though, didn't suck their blood or anything or seem to really use superpowers that I couldn't just explain away as me seeing or not seeing something because I was so terrified.

"Part of why he killed them was because he wanted to start a war between the old vampires of Mystic Falls and the Founding Families and the Council. He said that the vampires who should have burned were never actually set on fire and that it was going to take him a little while to procure his comrades from 1864. This was 2005."

Jeremy's brown orbs flashed around the room quickly in nerves. It was a good thing Damon was dead otherwise he would undoubtedly rip Holly's throat out. Of course, he didn't need to have people slipping up to Holly about what Damon did and him knowing about it. She would definitely hate him for not telling her.

"That did happen. The Council was able to beat them though. Holly," he said softly, taking her hand that was still running over Everest Maxwell's journal, "that vampire who killed your parents died over four months ago."

Holly's eyes, suddenly watering flashed up to Jeremy, "What? How do you know?"

"There would only ever be one vampire stupid and arrogant enough to boast about his plans to someone he planned to kill and have that particular plan of unleashing the vampires in mind. Not too long ago, a barrier was put up around Mystic Falls so that magic doesn't work within it's limits. Being a vampire, living after being dead, is considered magic. It dates back to an old spell. Damon Salvatore crossed the border into Mystic Falls and thought he could beat the barrier, in the short version of the story. He didn't and died."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Hello lovely readers! You may have notice some revisions. Well, I did some rewriting and Damon decided he wanted to talk a little more in the first chapter. It's referenced here; it's nothing major. I did relocate a chapter for reasons of flow.<strong>

**Damon's just been waiting around sipping on some very fine bourbon, waiting for his grand return. He's a bit arrogant; he wants cheers and an applause in the form of reviews before coming back next chapter or he will refuse to preform. Git doesn't seem to get that the show will go on. If he comes out or not, Holly is still the co-star so he can pout all he wants. **

**(My characters have very rich lives in my head.)**

Basically, comments inspire Damon while lack of comments drive Holly.


	7. November 1, 2012

November 1, 2012

Hands clasped around his as a white, hot fire started radiating through him. He wasn't sure if it was the headbutt to the stomach from the little psychopath that made it feel like his lungs were flattened, like he was being pulled backwards by an anchor in the middle of his back or if it was the magic of sucking him nearly twenty years into the future. his feet were airborne for seconds but soon he was digging his heels into the ground, preventing Kai from knocking him down.

His heels were literally digging into the ground; he was standing in dirt not rock. The layer of dirt was thin before giving way to stone but it definitely wasn't a cave. They had teleported. Kai seemed to realize this too; his death grip on Damon slackening.

"You little shit!" he roared, grabbing Kai's left shoulder, his right still pushing into Damon's stomach. Letting his anger overtake him, he slammed the kid into the ground, satisfyingly hearing and feeling ligaments ripping and Kai's scapula breaking beneath his fingers. "You killed her!"

Kai groaned, his eyes watering in pain. His head throbbed and he knew his skull must have been cracked but he couldn't break now. He had gone in knowing things would get messy. He didn't break free of that prison to be killed right away by the likes of some vampire.

"If it makes you feel any better," he hissed through gritted teeth, "I meant to leave you there with her when she wakes up from her little death nap."

Witches always were a little sour but this bastard didn't really have any power and he was so hungry. Damon knew, even as he felt his fangs descend and eyes dilate, that he should torture Kai to hell for what he did to Bonnie. In the end the would be dead, either way. Really, Bonnie probably wouldn't even want him to do all the things he had in mind for Kai. Slowly sucking out his blood was his way of being nice.

He descended on the boy, his mouth wide and fangs glistening in the moonlight. The last thing he expected was a burning in his mouth. It was like acid was burning a hole in the roof of his mouth; his tongue was being pierced over and over. There was something in his mouth and biology made him salivate. The saliva just made everything worse; it flowed around his gums and cheeks creating blistering, weeping wounds. When he swallowed, it was as though someone had taken a razor blade and was dragging it down his esophagus.

"You didn't think I'd come to a knife fight with a towel, did you?" laughed Kai, standing over Damon, who had rolled onto his back in agony. "I think I'll take a stroll into Mystic Falls before you figure out to spit that vervain out."

Damon growled, rolling onto his hands and knees, doing his best to choke out all of the vervain flower that had been shoved into his mouth. The pain in his mouth was still intense but he couldn't let Kai get away. Spitting out as much as he could, ignoring the fact that he was in his family's crypt, he staggered to his feet, trying to heading out in the direction the little bastard had.

Suddenly it felt like he was choking on his own blood, a sharp pain in his chest, The fucking barrier was still up; he couldn't get to the psycho as long as he was in Mystic Falls. Damon rushed back to the outskirts of the town borderer, his body already starting to heal himself. He couldn't do anything about Kai right now and Bonnie…. He looked down at his shirt covered in her blood; the prickling, tugging sensation in his stomach was overwhelming. She deserved to be back here, not him.

If he was here though, he was going to make the best of it. He'd been longing to see his girl for about five months. Damon wanted to rush straight to her but he had a feeling she wouldn't be too happy to see him covered in her best friend's blood. Instead, he headed off to the apartment close to Whitmore that he and Stefan had quickly found upon discovering they couldn't enter their home.

Holly had felt bad about not telling Jeremy about everything that she had found but he was the one who had said that each Founding Family kept their secrets. In the 13th and 14th box, from the spare room in the main house, she had found blueprints of the family house and the guest house modeled and remodeled over the years. There were spaces in closest that were unaccounted for that led to secret storage spaces. The spaces were mostly empty except more journals except those from more recent descendants.

She wasn't surprised to see that there were secret spaces in a house belonging to a family who was born to keep secrets. What had surprised her was the huge office hidden behind a movable wooden panes in the library. It had take Holly the use of a crowbar as leverage to slide the panels out of place. The panes were hidden behind a bookshelf that found that she could swing open. The office was neat and tidy but there was a thin layer of dust on everything. She figured that the uncle who had died before she was born, Michael Maxwell, had last used the office based on the thickness of the dust.

The most striking aspect of the office was what was carved into the desk. The lettering was clear and steady; the way it was written suggested that is was done during the 1800s when the manor was built. The carving was filling in with silver, making the letters strike out against the mahogany wood.

"_Whose was it? His who is gone._

_Who shall have it? He who will come. _

_What was the month? The tenth from the first. _

_Where was the sun? Over the oak. _

_Where was the shadow? Under the elm. _

_How was it stepped? North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five, south by two and by two, west by one and by one, and so under. _

_What shall we give for it? Only that which is ours. _

_Why should we give it? For the sake of the peace."_

Holly had written down a copy of the riddle and after two weeks she had only figured out the first three obvious answers. The riddle was on repeat in her mind as she and Elena stood at the nurses stations and filled medical charts from earlier in the day.

"Whatcha thinking about so hard," asked Elena, hip bumping Holly as the two stood next to each other, organizing patient files from earlier in the. There had been a lot of pollen and cedar in the air and every student with congestion and a stuffy nose thought they were dying.

The two girls had grown a lot closer as all their clinic and hospital shifts were together, as Elena was Holly's mentor. Not to mention that Elena could knock out chemistry while she struggle with microbiology; it was the opposite for Holly. The two had worked out a schedule to help each other twice a week. They weren't as close as Elena and Caroline, but Elena had become quite fond of her "little sister".

She had been talking to Matt and it seemed like Holly was making an impression on Jeremy as well. He wasn't so gloomy, he was going to class and there wasn't a string of girls. The pot and the alcohol were still there but she was grateful that Holly was being a positive influence on him. More time and perhaps the drinking and drugging would be gone too.

Holly rolled her eyes at the bumping of her hip; she didn't like people touching her. It wasn't that she was paranoid that they would suddenly start breaking bones like that vampire had or maybe she was. If it was anyone else, she would have snapped at them for invading her personal space but this was Elena and for some reason she gave Elena a special pass. She put up with Elena's overly cheery attitude. She let Elena hug her when they saw each other or before leaving each other; she didn't return the hug but she didn't freak out. Holly even let Elena ramble on about Liam, her latest crush, without making any remarks on the stupidity of love and lust.

Maybe it was because someone finally wanted to hangout with her. Elena had seen her humiliating 77 on her chemistry test and she had offered to tutor Holly, no questions asked, no favors wanted. Elena had already spent time with her when they met for coffee and when they volunteered together; she knew how awkward and weird how Holly could be but there

she was offering to help her, to spend more time with her. Nobody had ever wanted to spend time with her. It was the least she could do to help Elena in biology when Holly found out that it wasn't exactly her best subject.

"I was just thinking about Shakespeare's Sonnet #57," Holly lied smoothly, feeling a little guilty for what could just possibly be her first friend.

"You know, " smiled Elena, laughing and shaking her head, "you think about some of the most random things, Hol."

"It was logical; I was thinking about my English class where we are reading Greek and Roman mythology which led to me thinking about the use of it in _The Tempest _so of course I thought about Shakespeare and that led to Sonnet #57," Holly reasoned out her lie. It was simple after having to make so many cover stories to the polices and having to explain her thoughts to her therapists so they wouldn't think she was insane.

He had tried her dorm room after cleaning himself up. A part of him was hoping was hoping that Stefan would be at the apartment; that he would see him first. Elena was the love of his life but Stefan, Stefan was his baby brother, his family. He wasn't there, though, and he was more concerned about finding Elena. Stefan was a big boy; he could take care of himself. But his delicate Elena; she had already lost so many people, Losing him and Bonnie at the same time, she had to be a complete mess.

She wasn't at her room and Blondie wasn't around to tell him where she was.. Thankfully, hid Elena had always been one to write everything down. He always thought her's and Stefan's diaries were completely ridiculous ideas. They were vampires. Their memories were essentially flawless. This time, however, he was so grateful she kept and anally detailed scheduled of her class times and what was mark "Clinic" and "Hospital". She knew Elena had been discussing some pre-med program towards the end of last school year but he had kind of been distracted with the whole world falling apart.

He figured she could only mean that the time for now, blocked out in red with the word "Clinic", and that was indeed where she was. He leaned against the corner of the wall, his arms crossed along with his booted ankles. There she was, joking around with some girl like she was a close friend but Damon had never seen this girl before. Elena didn't have many girlfriends and he didn't think Caroline shrunk to maybe a couple of inches past five feet and dyed her hair maroonish-brown. Something was off.

"Elena," he called to her about five feet away from him at the nurses' station. He smirked as she paused what she was doing; he definitely caught her by surprise.

He started walking towards her, when he turned around anf fully faced him. That's when he noticed the tension in her body; the fear and disgust in her eyes.

"You can't be here she said," her voice flat, a hint of accusation in her words.

Elena took a step back, her back hitting into the nurses' counter, as Damon reached for her hand. Honestly, seeing him back from oblivion, not the most shocking thing in the world. This _was_ Mystic Falls. Why he was here, she didn't know or care but she did want to know where Bonnie was. Except she couldn't exactly ask that in front of Holly. She had told her Bonnie was dead.

"Elena," he said an uncharacteristically soft, pleading tone to his voice, "I'm here. I'm back."

It was worse than he thought; she had been hallucinating about him.

"Please, Elena, just come with me for a minute," he pointedly nodded his head towards the girl next to her. "We need to talk," he said, his voice almost begging

Elena was shaking her head but it was the girl next to her that answered him.

"No."

Holly could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage the second she hear his voice call out for Elena. He was suppose to be dead. Jeremy told her he was dead for months, now. But he wasn't and all her training wasn't going to do shit. She had carried around at least one stake ever since she learned how to kill vampires. She had trained in four different kinds of martial arts. She doubted she could kill him but hopefully she could keep him distracted long enough for whoever she was with to get to safety. The time was here and all she could do was stand frozen with fear, just like when he killed her parents. She was a coward then and she was a coward now. The he heard himm ask Elena to leave with him and her head seemed to snap back to reality.

"No," she stated firmly, stepping in between the two feet of him and Elena. He seemed to bear over her, as if trying to intimidate her out of his way. She wasn't going to let him hurt Elena. He could have her if he wanted but he had taken enough innocent lives. She pushed her right hand up against his chest. She could feel the ridges of his firm pectoral muscle as it sloped and met with his sternum.

Damon paused for a moment, remembering that he was in a public place. If they were in private, he would have just knocked this girl out and compelled her to forget. He broke eye contact with Elena's big, brown eyes when he felt a hand upon his chest. Who did this girl think she was? He glanced down at the small hand.

He recognized that bracelet; that treasure chest. He stepped back, delicately taking Holly's hand in his, her fingers draping over his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice sounding as genuinely sincere and nice as possible. "I don't believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you. I'm Damon Salvatore," he grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye as he delicately brushed his lips across the back of her hand.

"Oh my God," gasped Holly an exaggerated look of joy on her face as she pulled her hand back and placed it over her heart, as if that would stop it from racing. "Do you mean you're _the _Damon Salvatore?"

"Yes," said Damon, straightening up to his full height, She was suppose to be afraid of him not sass him. "Though, I'm sure my reputation barely does me justice," he said with a hint of danger. "And who might you be?"

"Oh," Holly made herself blush, as if she couldn't believe he wanted to know her name, "I'm Holly, Holly Maxwell."

"Maxwell, eh?" Damon smiled good-naturedly. "A Founding Family member. You know, the Maxwells and the Salvatores go way back."

Holly nodded, grinning. She could play his game. "Yes, I've been learning all about the relationship since I was eleven. I must say, I found your namesake to be particularly fascinating. You must be proud to be the descendant of such a freethinker. I'm sure, if Elena likes you, you must be like him in that area. Then again," Holly looked over her shoulder and she saw the anger and revolution in Elena's dark eyes, "it doesn't seem to me like she likes you very much."

Damon scoffed, if only this kid knew. "Elena loves me."

"No, I don't," Elena finally spoke up, looking incredulous at the vampire before her.

Holly caught the brief look of hurt and shock in Damon's icy eyes before they went back to steel. Surely, that wasn't possible.

"Elena, we're almost done here. Why don't you go ahead and go set up everything for us to study for tomorrow's bio test?" Holly suggested, wanting Elena out of Damon's reach.

Elena looked at Holly. She didn't want to leave her but she definitely didn't want to leave her with Damon. Holly would piss him off in a matter of seconds with her odd ways. You'd think two blunt, odd people would get along but then again neither one of them got along with anyone.

"Sure, Hol," Elena smiled. "Thanks," she said, hoping Holly was able to get the double meaning behind her word.

When Elena was out of earshot of Holly, she looked back and saw Damon staring her down.. Quiet enough so only the other vampire could here, "Hurt her and I will rip your fucking heart out."

Damon's eyes narrowed as he heard Elena's words. Well, there went that plan. Something was off with Elena; she was obviously pissed at him and snapping Holly's neck wouldn't be making things any better.

"Thought you were dead," Holly remarked coolly, propping an elbow against the nurses' counter. "Thought you could cheat death and drove in Mystic Falls, you know, _all that jazz_."

Damon mirrored her body language, standing close to her, bending his face merely inches from her. He couldn't kill her but he could get under her skin and have some fun. One day Elena wouldn't be so moody and he'd snap the bitch's neck.

"I'm here, aren't I? Looks like I did cheat death. I am _the_ Damon Salvatore, Hollywood," Damon grinned cheekily. "_You're_ the one who is suppose to be dead."

"And yet," Holly looked around her quickly, realizing how close he was, how much of her vision field he took up, "here I am. You were less than two feet away from me. For someone hell bent on ending a Founding Family you did a pretty pathetic job."

The growl Damon issued slightly unnerved Holly but she didn't let it show. She knew this moment would come sooner or later and she knew Damon wasn't going to make it quick. She was going to at least try and annoy the hell out of him before he was done.

He didn't need reminder that she was in the damn closet. What kind of kid hides in a damn closet? Then again, a lot of things about this kid were far from normal. How was she still holding his gaze with those emerald green eyes? Humans were suppose to be terrified by nature. It's why many new vampires had to physically make people look him in the eyes.

"You are alive because I allow you to be alive. You don't think I've kept up with you? See you deliberately lie to the cops by not telling them my name. Hear about you getting the Aten brand. Watch you take to the crazy farm, twice," Damon grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I know all about you, Hollywood."

"So you know what the brand does," challenged Holly, her eyes darkening.

Damon's hand flashed out, grabbing the arm Holly didn't have propped on the counter. He dug his nail into her flesh, never breaking eye contact. The arm fell back to her side once he could smell her blood. He couldn't believe she didn't even flinch.

"It protects you from vampire powers. It doesn't stop me from breaking your neck, Hollywood."

Holly gave Damon a thoughtful, quizzical look, "Are you naive, stupid, or just simply didn't do your research?"

His lips drew into a thin line and he could feel his fangs descend in anger. He was still hungry but this girl was off limits by orders of Elena and the scar she wore.

"I can see you're confused," Holly said sympathetically. "Your speed, your strength, those are powers; they won't work on me. You fight me, you're human. If you've done your research you will know my finesse with stakes, guns, and the martial arts. You want to kill me, you're gonna need a gun."

Damon laughed in her face. "You act like that's hard to get. Besides," he said stepping closer to her so the there toes were touching. He raked his fingertips up and down the arm he made bleed. His voice dropped suggestively as he bent to murmur in her ear, "I think you underestimate my natural skills and talents, Hollywood."

He pulled back and locked eyes with her again. What the hell was wrong with her? Even that hadn't phased her. Her heart beat hadn't even altered.

Holly kept repeating the names of every Harry Potter book in the series in order as she felt Damon Salvatore invade her personal space. She knew he was touching her and she knew he was talking but all she could do, all she would do, is repeat the book names. She let herself return to reality when he was back to staring in her face. She was still aware of their toes touching and him extremely close to her.

"After 150 years, I don't doubt the talents of _the_ Damon Salvatore," Holly laughed bitterly. "I do think you underestimate mine, though."

"Are you looking for a fight, Hollywood?" Damon genuinely grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"Maybe," Holly casually shrugged, "or maybe I just have a death wish and I wondering why the hell you haven't manned up and killed me already. It's almost been almost seven years."

"I do believe you have a death wish," Damon mused, using a finger to tilt her head further up so he didn't have to keep bending his neck so far down; it was starting to hurt. "However, Hollywood, maybe I don't want you dead. Maybe I want you to watch as I kill more people you love."

He was just trying to upset her. She wouldn't give into what he wanted.

"My name is _Holly._ Why do you keep calling me that?" she huffed, pushing some hair out of her eyes, the backs of her fingers accidentally brushing against Damon's chin. He had shave but not very closely. Like an electric razor. For some reason the idea of a vampire from 1864 using such a modern device made her want to laugh.

"Well, it's where you're really from. It seems fitting, don't you think?" Damon smirked, trying not to think about the chills the fingers against his skin sent down his spine.

"I'm from Texas," she spat. She hated California.

"Until Mommy and Daddy died," Damon grinned. It bothered him, more than annoyed him that she didn't have a reaction to what he said. "You tell everyone here you're from Los Angeles but Grandpa and Grandma and _Holly Jones_ all really lived in Hollywood. I'm guessing you don't want to be judge as a rich spoiled snobby kid who comes from money. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

Holly rolled her eyes, "You think I want to be locked away again for saying someone is a vampire?"

"You act like you know it all but you are in way over your head," Damon chuckled darkly. "I mean your parents."

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been keeping that one for quite a long time. I'll continue to keep it, if you stay away from Elena," Holly countered. This vampire had some obsession with her and she didn't like it. It wasn't safe.

"Not gonna happen, babe," Damon snipped, shaking his head vehemently.

"I will tolerate "Hollywood" but you can save the pet names, Salvatore," Holly growled, balling the vampires white t-shirt by the collar, standing on her tip-toes to get right up in Damon's face. She hate hearing people in relationships use pet names, particularly babe and baby, there was no way she was going to let this bastard call her one.

Damon snarled at her, grabbing her wrist, holding it so tight that the charms dug into her skin, "Don't forget what and who you're dealing with, Holly."

Damon could smell a small amount of blood; one of the charms must have pierced her. He saw the tiniest hint of emotion in her. It wasn't fear but it was something. He had gotten to her.

"Leave her alone, Salvatore."

Damon still gripped her wrist, he couldn't help but notice the way that the backs of her knuckles rested against his bare chest. "I said no."

"I don't think she would like hearing about how you killed my parents. How you enjoyed paint the rose red with my father's guts," Holly mused, letting go of Damon's shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles she had caused against his chest.

"I won't hurt her and you will keep my secret, Hollywood," Damon said softly, letting go of Holly's wrist.

Holly grabbed her wrist and smeared some of the small amount of blood around her wrist, under her charm bracelet. Her mother's bracelet.

"Her or me," whispered Holly, looking down at her converse. There she was admitting defeat. Damon proved he could hurt her. Proved he could kill her.

Damon groaned, "Fine, just try not to annoy me."

"Oh, I plan to annoy the hell out of you, Salvatore," Holly smirked, looking into his steel eyes, a fire in her's.

"Game on, Hollywood," winked Damon, walking away backwards from Holly.


	8. November 1 & 2, 2012

November 1, 2012 (continued)

The hard plastic of the steering wheel column under her hands and the vague awareness that she was controlling a 2500 lbs piece of metal were the only thing tying Holly to reality at that moment. He was following her. She could feel his eyes as she had finished filing the last of the medical charts, refusing to give in the desire to shove the papers off on someone else and run out of the hospital. Holly thought she had escaped him when she pulled out of the parking lot but it only took her a few minutes to notice that the old black Camaro turning each time she did. From her rearview mirror, when stopped at a red light, he was close enough that she could make out his face. She would have taken him for more of the Ferrari type.

Her knuckles were white, she was grasping the wheel so hard. She noticed his car stop just as she passed the sign signalling that she had made it back to town. Never in her life did Holly Maxwell think she would be happy to be entering Mystic Falls. The grip on the wheel didn't slacken at all.

Rage was all Holly could feel. It was all she would let herself feel. If she let any other emotions in then everything would come tumbling down. This was his fault. With a snap decision, she turned into the woods about two miles sooner than she usually did. Up the gravel road she saw the huge structure looming in front of her. She'd never been here before but she had seen pictures; they didn't do justice to the grandeur of the place.

After braking to almost a halt, pumping the clutch Holly threw the gear shift into neutral and jerked back the emergency brake. She jumped out of the Jeep, wishing, for the first time, that she hadn't taken the doors off simply because she wanted to slam one shut. She strolled to the front door, lifting and dropping the big, brass knocker three times. In a few moments, Matt, the bus boy from the Grill, his face puzzled at the surprise visitor.

"Hey, Holly," Matt greeted, his brows furrowing, glancing around as if he expected to see someone with her at least.

Holly tapped her foot impatiently, trying to look around Matt to inside the old boarding house, "Is Jeremy here?"

"Yeah, he's right," Holly walked into the house, thankful the door was wide enough that she didn't have to actually touch Matt, "in the livingroom."

Matt pointed in the direction of where his roommate was, agape at Holly's nerve to just waltz in, uninvited. She was usually fairly polite, albeit a little strange though.

"We need to talk," demanded Holly, glaring at the back of Jeremy's head. She couldn't help but notice the similarity of the brown of his brown hair and the leather couch; though, his hair was darker. At least from this view point.

Jeremy's jaw locked as his character on screen was shot and killed by another player. He at least still had the sense to back out of the match before he was killed again. His team didn't need to lose because he wasn't focused. For some reason, he cared about what Holly thought of him and he didn't think she'd appreciate him reeking of alcohol at six o'clock on a Thursday.

Trying to act casual he slung his arm over the back of the couch and turned to look at Holly, noticing her crossed arms and tapping foot. Her intense stare at him sent chills down his spine. He'd never seen her look so angry. Was she really that pissed that he was drunk? He planned on asking her about what they needed to discuss but he saw Matt appear behind her. He wasn't totally wasted; something told him it wasn't a good idea to let Matt find out he had told Holly about vampires.

"Alright," he stood, using the armrest for a bit of stabilizing support in his slightly inebriated state. "We can talk in my room. Second room on the left," he agreed, gesturing for her to head up the stairs. "I'll be right there."

Jeremy began to follow Holly, keeping a tight hold on the banister. He popped into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. With the twist of a cap and a tilt of a bottle, the blue liquid was swishing around Jeremy's mouth. The burn of mouthwash alcohol was not the way he liked his alcohol to sting. Spitting out the liquid he reached for a bottle of what was Matt's cologne and spritzed it around his neck a few times. His bathroom was further down the hall and he need to get back to Holly quick.

"What's up?" he asked, strolling into his room. Holly stood looking out his window, arms still crossed, foot still tapping.

Holly's eyes narrowed. She turned on her heel and stalked over to Jeremy, glaring him down. "You lied to me."

"What?" Jeremy asked, genuinely confused. Which lie had she caught him in? They were all mostly little white lies or lies of omission; nothing to be this pissed about.

"You know what!" snapped Holly, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

His temper was short when he drank and her bitching at him was not a good thing. "No, Holly, honestly, I don't," he said, his voice louder than usual, flinging his hands in the hair in exasperation

"I actually thought you were better than this," said Holly, her voice dripping with disgust. "Mouthwash and cologne don't cover up the fact that you're drunk, you know."

Jeremy shook his head. He couldn't pretend that her little jab didn't hurt a little. "Sorry to disappoint but this is who I am, Holly! We can't all be perfect like you and not have the death of someone we love screw with us."

"You think I'm perfectly fine?" snarled Holly, pushing Jeremy so that he was sitting on his bed, his drunken state made it quite easy. "Did you want to see me break like a _normal_ person? Is that why you lied to me? Or are you just that twisted that you want to make everyone hurt as bad as you? Or are you so disgusting that you just told me that to try and get me to sleep with you? Or better yet, learn the Maxwell secrets?"

"What the hell are you going on about?!" Jeremy scowled, finding this aggressive side of Holly a little attractive. He was a lot drunker than he thought.

"Damon Salvatore isn't dead."

Jeremy shook his head, "I didn't lie, Holly. Damon's dead. I told you exactly how he died."

"Yeah? Then there must be a clone of him that just threatened your sister and me!" cried Holly, grabbing the open sides of Jeremy's zipup hoodie. She could feel her eyes stinging, the tears were fighting to flow. Her hands trembled; shaking was always a sign of an on-coming panic attack. She had to calm down. She couldn't let her fear control her.

Jeremy felt himself sober up hearing that his sister and Holly were threatened. Holly was wrong though; Damon would never hurt Elena. But Elena had erased all good memories of him, there was no telling what he would do.

"That's not possible. I basically saw Damon die," Jeremy said, shaking his head again.

Holly shoved her wrist in front of Jeremy's face, shifting her mother's bracelet further down her arm. "See these impressions? See where I have wounds? Damon Salvatore grabbed my wrist so tight that the charms cut into my skin, Jeremy. He wanted to talk to your sister alone! He followed me from the hospital clinic to just outside Mystic Falls. He is as alive as an undead thing can be!"

"No," Jeremy said softly, taking Holly's wrist in his hands gently. If Damon was back, that meant... that meant Bonnie was back. He couldn't believe it. "I'm so sorry he did this to you."

Holly snatched her wrist away from Jeremy, not liking that tender look in his eyes. "Yeah, well, I can handle Salvatore. Elena, though, it's like he has some obsession with her. I saw her today. She's afraid of him. She's afraid of him and she doesn't even know what he is!"

"Wh-" Jeremy caught himself, remembering he had told Holly that Elena didn't know about vampires. This was a bit of a pinch. "Elena's on vervain. He's tried to compel her before. She knows there is something dangerous about him."

" , what does he want with her?" Holly fished. Drunk Jeremy was being very shifty. She knew she wasn't getting the full story.

Jeremy sighed, flopping back on his bed. "I'd say because she looks a lot like the girl he obsessed over for 150 years. Damon would probably say it's because he loves her. I don't think he loves her; I think he just dated her as a replacement for Katherine."

"They dated?!" shrieked Holly, placing her hands on either side of Jeremy's head, her shocked faced looking down into his tired one.

Jeremy opened his eyes, startled by the heat of Holly hovering over him. He never noticed the tiny flecks of blue in her eyes; they always seemed pure, bright green.

"Yeah," he groaned. "Horrifying, I know."

"So, Elena dated the vampire Damon Salvatore and his vampire brother Stefan Salvatore?" Holly asked wide-eyed, grabbing both sides of Jeremy's face, her weight resting on her elbow. "How could you let that happen?!"

Jeremy tried to shake his head, clasped between Holly's soft hands, "I ask myself the same question. I didn't know what Stefan was when she started dating him. When I did find out, well, he made her happy and he drank animal blood. Between the animal blood and the fact that she was happy, I figured she was safe. Especially after I found out that he saved her from the accident that killed our parents. Of course, I think he only did that because she looked like Katherine and he loved her. I mean-"

"Wait," Holly cut him off, sounding incredulous, "Both the Salvatore brothers loved this Katherine chick who kinda looks like Elena? And you let Elena date these vampires?!"

"She's a big girl, Holly," Jeremy explained as he propped himself up on his elbows, his face coming closer to hers. "I couldn't exactly tell her what to do. And she kind of had two vampires who wanted her. Two supernatural monsters against one measly teenager? I was kind of out powered and numbered. I mean, they weren't hurting her. I didn't really know what I was suppose to do. There's no _My Sister's Dating a Vampire Handbook._"

"I don't know about this Stefan guy but I do know about Damon Salvatore. He doesn't love. He doesn't care about anyone. You say he obsessed over a girl for 150 years? I'll buy that. I'm guessing she was from his human life where there is the slight possibility that he had some kind of humanity in him. Damon Salvatore, the crazy psychotic vampire? Obsession is not a leap. He waited 11 years in between killing my uncle and killing my dad. Then he has apparently been stalking me since then. If Salvatore isn't killing someone it's because he's letting them live because he wants to toy with them," Holly finished, thinking back to her encounter with the vampire.

Jeremy wasn't sure if he believed this or not. He had seen what Damon had done for Elena. He had died for her, sort of. Though Holly, she had seen a side of Damon none of them ever had when he killed her parents. Jeremy was a hunter by nature and had never been too fond or trusting of the vampire.

However, Elena could handle Damon. She was a vampire. How did he explain _this_ to Holly?

"You're right. He's wanted Elena alive the last couple of years. He was too obsessed and in love with Katherine who looked so much like her that he can't hurt her. I mean, I told her Damon took off months ago in a fit of rage and that's why he hasn't been around and that's probably why she looked scared. Damon likes to catch people by surprise; he doesn't do normal entrances," Jeremy shrugged casually. If he could blow this all off like it was nothing maybe she would believe him. "Besides, she toyed at him more by picking his brother over him, just like Katherine did. Eventually they got together but by then, Elena was in too deep with the Salvatore brothers and I couldn't really talk any sense into her."

Holly pushed herself off from hovering over Jeremy and fell flat on her back. She could feel a tear roll out of the corner of her eye and down the side of her face. Salvatore had played and fooled everyone, even Jeremy. Someone should have staked this asshole by now. He was a stalking psychopath who killed because he was bored. Maybe he had everyone else charmed but she would get him somehow for all the things he did to her parents and his victims.

November 2, 2012

Damon shuffle through the collection of pens, pens, and other odds and ends looking for a paper clip. He'd been through all the draws in the desk except the locked one and he still hadn't found what he was really looking for. He knew it was here though; he could smell it. Victoriously, he pulled out a paper clip and unbent it. Damon bent down to the only draw that locked and used the metal scrap as a makeshift lockpick. You'd think for a vampire hunter he'd be a lot smarter about how to properly lock his stuff up.

_Pathetic._ The draw was filled with blood bags. How were vampires around here ever going to survive if they kept living off bagged lunches? All of them needed to learn to snatch, eat, erase because there was going to come a time when they didn't have access to a snack pack. When that time came, they would have to drink nice, warm blood from the vein and it was a lot more addicting than donated blood. The rush of holding someone's life in your hands, the fear that made blood seem like an actual drug, the simple feeling of biting someone were all things that they needed to experience. They needed to know what a true lust for blood was and they needed to learn how to control it. Stefan would go so horribly off the wagon because he enjoyed these things way too much. If these kids didn't start drinking from the vein, they were going to eventually be mini-rippers.

Though it wasn't like he cared. He cared if Elena started killing people because the guilt would crush her but the rest of them, not his problem. Of course, it was still his problem; Elena would be upset if her friends were crazy murders and he didn't want an upset Elena. Ugh. When had love become so complicated? When he had loved Katherine it was so simple and he hadn't had to worry about pleasing anyone but her. Katherine was so independent; he didn't have to worry about pleasing her friends or babysitting them. Loving Katherine was selfish. God, he loved being selfish. Honestly, the best days were the ones where he didn't give a shit about _anyone_ but himself. He was the only one he ever had to satisfy and he'd be damn if he didn't satisfy himself. _A lot_, he tought with a smirk.

But he wasn't suppose to be thinking that way anymore. He was with Elena now and Elena was _good_ and that meant he had to be good, selfless and everything that he hadn't been for 100 years. When he was first a vampire, he tried to maintain who he was as a human but then Sage had shown him the right way to be a vampire. He had been the best vampire when he had his humanity off; Son of Giuseppe rivaled the Ripper of Monterey. Of course, few people knew he was the serial killer in New York. Stefan had been an obvious give away because f his remorse and humanity. Humanity simply sucked.

Without humanity, he would never have fallen in love with Elena again and experienced those moments of bliss with her. Then again, he wouldn't have been put through all the crap of feeling history repeat itself as she chose Stefan over him time and time again. And he sure as hell wouldn't be as pissed off and hurt and feeling so many things he couldn't describe, right now. He couldn't decide if getting his humanity back was a blessing or a curse.

He reached for the Crown Royal and savored the feeling of whiskey burning his throat. This was why this guy was his best friend; he kept alcohol close at hand at all times. He leaned back in the chair, and propped his booted feet up on the desk, still nursing the whiskey. He needed to buff out the scratches on the left boot. They probably got there when he was fighting with Kai. He had a feeling that guy was going to be a problem; he did slaughter almost his entire family but then again so had he and Stefan. Bad comparison; he and Stefan _were_ problems.

"Damon?" asked a voice, the door to the office having squeaked open. "What the hell? How the -? Is that-? Are you-"

Damon lazily turned his head towards the door and saw his best friend and gave him a smug smile, "Am I leaving you at a lost for words, Ric?"

Alaric scurried into his office, locking the door behind him. He took a seat across from his desk, one that students would usually sit in. "Are you a ghost?" he whispered.

"Nope," smirked Damon. He held up the bottle of whiskey in a gesture of cheers and sang, "I'm back!"

"How the hell is that possible?" Alaric inquired, pushing Damon's boots off his desk.

Damon shrugged, "Long story short; a little witchy blood, a little witchy spell, a little witchy prison, a magical key called an ascendent and a psychopath called Kai. Nothing too big really. I'm more interested in what has been going on here while I have been stuck in Narnia minus all the cute little critters."

"Um, that's kind of a lot to take in," breathed Alaric, holding his hand out for the bottle of Crown Royal. Damon passed it over and Ric took a mouthful. "It's been quiet over here. It's nice. Except for the whole not being able to return to our homes in Mystic Falls thing, it's calm."

"Mhm," Damon nodded, pretending to be interested and pretending to believe him. "Been working any clues on how to bring me and Bonnie back?" he asked coolly, inspecting his nails with sudden interest.

"Yeah, of course," Ric responded quickly. "I've been doing the research and Stefan has been out tracking down the information."

"Good," Damon nodded again, "I'm going to need to see that. How have you adjusted to being a vampire?"

"Pretty well, I think. I mean, I've been around enough of you to know what to do. The bloodlust is hard but everything is good," admitted Ric, raking his fingers through his sandy brown hair.

Damon grabbed the whiskey of the desk and took another swig before replying, "That I have to disagree with. I notice you haven't mentioned Elena. I went to see her yesterday She seemed very, very off. What's going on with her, parental figure?"

"Ah, well," stalled Ric, not really wanting to have to tell this to Damon; to hurt his best friend this way. Not to mention he was unsure of how Damon would react.

"Spit it out," huffed Damon, rolling his blue eyes at his friend. Why did people take so long to just get to the inevitable?

"Damon, you have to understand," Alaric pushed, motioning his hands in an insestent manner, "Elena was extremely, extremely upset over losing you. She had Luke Parker giving her something that would let her actually hallucinate that you were still here, Damon. She was addicted to you and addicted to the drugs. When we got her to stop using the drugs, she was an emotional wreck without you. She was close to shutting off her humanity, Damon. I need you to understand how bad she was."

An icy glare burned through Alaric. Damon just wanted him to get to the damn point.

"Time's wasting, Ric," he meant to sing but instead it came out through gritted teeth. "What happened?"

"I - She asked me to compel away all the good memories she had of you," mumbled Alaric, looking at his hands clasped in his lap.

"And, of course, you didn't do it," growled Damon, "because you knew I would be back for her."

"Damon, everyone thought you were dead, for good. Everyone was trying to move on. I did what I thought was best for Elena in the long run," Alaric replied, grasping at threads to defend his actions.

"So, you're telling me that Elena only has memories of the me that she hates?" Damon dared Ric to answer. He nodded weakly. Grabbing the bottle of Crown Royal, Damon downed the last half of the bottle of whiskey in a few gulps.

"Well, yes but I can uncompel her," stumbled out Ric, wanting to make up for his actions.

"Lovely! Why don't you just go grab Elena, give her back of all the memories of how much she loves me and everything can go back to normal!" grinned Damon, giving a clap and making to get up, as if the conversation were over.

"It's not that simple Damon," Ric said, his voice at its strongest since he had first seen Damon behind his desk. "I promised her that I would only restore her memories if she asked me to."

"Break your promise," Damon simply responded, giving a casual shrug.

Alaric shook his head, "That's you, Damon, not me. I keep my word. I have somethings, a letter and stuff, Elena wrote to herself about restoring her memories. I think it's encouraging things. I can try to get her to look at it. The best you can do, meantime, is convince her to ask for them back. But it won't be easy; she remembers you as how you were when she first met you; the bad guy wanting to open a tomb full of vampires."

"That's not exactly a correct perception," Damon pointed out. He had been hell bent on getting Katherine out. Starting the town's civil war was just an added bonus.

"Maybe not, but to her, you're a monster Damon."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: We have our first official ship names thanks to xxstarklightxx! Jelly (JeremyHolly) and Dolly (Damon/Holly)! Other suggestions are still open!**

**Updates will be slower - I'm studying abroad so I'll be kind of busy with that but comments and favs and follows encourage me to find time to write, even if it means waking up at 5am!**


	9. November 7, 2012

Holly pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes, rubbing hard in attempt to rub out the sting of tiredness. She didn't know why she was so hung up on this. Jeremy was acting exactly the way Holly had expected him to be and nothing like the way she had come to know him. He was drinking a lot more again, could always be counted on to have a joint and not be at school, and, according to Matt, he never saw the same girl at the boarding house two nights in a row. If he didn't care t figure out how it was that Damon Salvatore was back and not his girlfriend, Bonnie Bennet, she didn't see why she should care so much.

Yet she did. Holly didn't like the way Jeremy was acting and she missed the old Jeremy. She missed the Jeremy that would joke with her and tease her and just didn't make her feel so awkward. Holly missed having a friend.

Another exasperated sigh and a journal of Elias Maxwell went sailing over her shoulder, landing with a loud thump on the laminate wood floors of her bedroom. She knew she should be more careful with the old works but it was hard not to feel frustrated with them when they weren't giving her the answers she needed. The books spoke about nothing of the afterlife or returning from the dead, at least from what she could make out.

None of them spoke about an anchor to the other side, which Jeremy had said Bonnie was when she had died with Damon, the other side being destroyed in her death. That was alll the information about Bonnie's death and possible whereabouts that Holly could obtain from Jeremy. He was taking it really bad that Damon had come back but not his girlfriend. Holly couldn't blame him; who would want a psychopathic serial killer back over their love?

It was clear that she would be getting nowhere fast on the topic of finding Bonnie so she went back to her other obsession during her free time: the silver, embezzled riddled on the hidden desk.

"_Whose was it? His who is gone._

_Who shall have it? He who will come. _

_What was the month? The tenth from the first. _

_Where was the sun? Over the oak. _

_Where was the shadow? Under the elm. _

_How was it stepped? North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five, south by two and by two, west by one and by one, and so under. _

_What shall we give for it? Only that which is ours. _

_Why should we give it? For the sake of the peace."_

She grabbed her organic chemistry spiral and began to take notes on the riddle again. Maybe two pages of actual notes were related to actual organic chemistry while the rest related to vampires and the riddles and the weirdness that surrounded Mystic Falls. Holly scribbled away, working out the clue, line by line for hours, having to check the grounds and still focus.

Line 1: _It belonged to someone passed_

Line 2: _Someone will inherit it_

Line 3: _In the month of October_

Line 4: _Sun directly over an oak?_ **Almost all trees on property are oak**

Line 5: _A shadow cast by the sun of the oak or a shadow of the elm?_ **There are no elm trees on property. **

Line 6: _Navigational directions but stepped from where?_ _Ten steps north with both feet; five steps east with both feet; two steps south by both feet; one step west by both feet;_ **under?**

Line 7: _We can only give something of our own for it?_ _(Does this mean it has to be a Maxwell object/thing?)_

Line 8: _For the sake of the piece…__A weapon or guide of some type?_

It still wasn't complete but it was a lot closer to being completed than the last time she had worked on it. She was now certain that there were no elm trees on the property or secret cellars or wells that whatever this thing was may have been dropped down in. Holly didn't know what this secret was, but she knew it was the grand secret of the Maxwells and she wanted to find out.

"Elena," Damon stated firmly, though he could sense the pleading in his own tone, "let me explain it to you!"

Her hair whipped him in the face as she shook her head back and forth, not wanting to hear his excuses, "I'm not going to believe whatever crap you come up with, Damon. You're here; Bonnie's not. You plus Bonnie equals one killing the other. You showed back up without her so I guess I know which monster killed her."

Damon tried to grab Elena's hand but she pulled it out of his reach. "It's not like that, Elena. Bonnie is suppose to be here with me. I swear to you, I won't stop until I bring her back to you, Elena."

"You're always full of lies, Damon. Can you even remember the last time you told the truth?" the female vampire snapped, aggravated with the lying, manipulative jerk beside her. "Look, you want to get into my good graces? Start by something small. Something I can maybe trust you with. Holly's going to be here any minute but I don't want to spend another second around you. Wait for her and tell her to meet me at my dorm? I expect to see her there unharmed and uncompelled."

Elena had already gathered her belongings and walked out of the bar before Damon could respond. Damon raked his hands through his raven hair; he did not want to deal with Holly Maxwell today of all days. However, just like Elena predicted, not even three minutes later, he could sense Holly walk into the bar, heading into Damon's direction where Elena and she were suppose to meet up.

"What are you doing here," forced out Holly, her voice dripping with disgust. She was already pissed that she was going to be tutored in organic chemistry; she didn't need to pile Salvatore on top of that.

Damon crossed his arms in front of him, cocked his head up towards Holly and gave her a cheeky grin. "Elena asked me to wait for you."

Holly tossed her backpack onto the overstuffed couch and placed her hands defiantly on her hips, "You want to try going with the truth this time, Salvatore?"

"I speak nothing but the truth, Hollywood, " smirked Damon. "Elena asked me to tell you that she would prefer to meet up at her dorm."

"Thought we agreed you would stay away from her," Holly muttered, grabbing her backpack again, the weight of the textbooks almost making her off balance.

"No," Damon drawled, tugging on her backpack, making her flop on the couch next to him. "We agreed that I wouldn't hurt you or her. However, you walk very thin ice, Hollywood. It wouldn't take much for me to decide to kill you," he whispered softly in her ear, brushing her hair aside.

"Terrifying," jerked Holly, pulling away from Damon.

"I can be," mumbled Damon, running his finger under Holly's silver charm bracelet.

Holly hummed softly, ignoring the goosebumps running up her arms. "That was more sick, sadistic narcissist. Wasn't exactly terrifying."

"Your medical history says otherwise - anxiety attacks, night terrors, stints in mental hospitals," taunted Damon, still playing with the charm bracelet. He was interested, after all these years, to see if the treasure chest actually did open and could hold vervain. It didn't open.

Holly shook her head, "That had more to do with the blood than you. Seeing anyone kill my parents like that, I would have had the same reaction. What you are makes no impact."

"Still," murmured Damon, resting his chin on Holly's shoulder. "What are you still doing here, Hollywood? What do you want from me?"

She jerked away at the vampire's touch, wanting to escape his proximity. "Bonnie Bennet, is she alive?"

"Why do you ask," Damon inquired flatly after a moment.

Holly let out an exaggerated sigh and crossed her arms, glaring into his steely blue eyes. "She is the best friend and the girlfriend of my only two friends in this town. Jeremy is on his way to self-destructing and Elena is a good person, she deserves her best friend back."

Damon raised an eyebrow at Holly, angling himself into the corner of the couch to look more fully at her. She was serious. Vampires weren't enough for this kid; she had to go delving into the world of the supernatural.

"What would make you think I would have that kind of information?" Damon challenged.

Holly shrugged casually; she really wasn't certain that Salvatore would have any information about Bonnie. "Well, you two were the last ones left on the other side before it was destroyed, right? I figured if anyone has any idea of where she is, it would be you."

"Wouldn't know," Damon remarked, swirling th swig of bourbon in his glass.

Holly couldn't help but notice the way he looked away from her when he said that. Now, that would be a sign of lying in most people but she doubted Salvatore would have such an obvious tell.

"I think you're lying," she quipped, pulling the glass that had his full attention from his hand.

"You should know better than to mess with a man's drink," he said darkly, grabbing the tumbler back and swallowing the bourbon.

She wouldn't let his darkened, narrowed eyes intimidate her. "I heard you and Elena used to date. Clearly, she's just not that into you, now. Bringing her best friend back, well, that might tip the scales in your favor. Or at least balance them," she tried to persuade.

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. He had already thought about this. Problem was that he couldn't figure out a way to bring Bonnie back. Not just for Elena but for Bonnie's sake. She deserved to be here. She was the one who always sacrificed so much for her friends. If he was going to figure out a way to bring her back, and soon, he might actually need Holly Maxwell's help. She had, after all, found the Aten.

"As far as I know, she's alive and stuck repeating May 10, 1994 in a deserted wasteland over and over again," Damon shrugged.

Holly looked puzzled, "Is that where you came from?"

"Mhm," he confirmed softly, his eyes closed, his head resting against the back of the leather couch.

"Were you guys stuck there together this whole time together? Repeating May 10, 1994?" Holly asked incredulously.

Salvatore nodded.

"Sucks for her. I'm guessing since you said it was deserted, she didn't witness you killing my uncle day after day?" she pipped nonchalantly.

Damon's eyes narrowed. He really didn't like this girl. "No, she didn't but kudos to Hollywood for remembering one of my many massacre dates. They are so special and numerous."

"Shame she didn't get to see you for the monster that you really are, huh?" Holly sighed, shaking her head sadly.

"Oh, Hollywood, I only let the most special of people see that side of me," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Holly.

"The true question is," challenged Holly, pointing a daring finger in between Salvatores eyes, "how many of those special people live to tell the tale?"

"Count yourself among the very selective and most elite," smirked Damon, flashing Holly with a flirtatious wink.

"Ugh," Holly groaned, turning to leave. Really, she didn't know what she was thinking. Nothing was worth putting up with Damon Salvatore.

He had to fight to make sure he only pulled at her with human speed and force.

"Look, I needed a spell, Bennet Blood and this thing called an ascendent to get back home. Boonie has all those things where she is but she hasn't come back. My only guess as to why is that she hasn't been able to put the ascendent back together. I think it broke when I dropped it when I was suddenly shocked by being warpped through time and space to get back here."

Holly sat in thought next to Damon for a minute, her elbow bumping his as they both had their arms crossed across their chests.

Musing aloud, Holly asked, "Do you have an ascendent here?"

"No," Damon sighed.

"Could we make one?"

Kai was out there. Kai knew that ascendent better than anyone. If he could get Kai to make another ascendant….

"Possibly but what would you do with it?"

Holly had a distant look in her eye, trying her best to remember one of Elias Maxwell's journal. "It might be possible for me to send one back."

"It wouldn't be easy for me to get a new ascendent," warned Damon.

"I can't promise I can send it to the right place and time," shrugged Holly. "I don't see you coming up with a better plan."

Damon scowled.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Short filler... Comments would help me find time to write a nice long piece ;)<p> 


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